


Ashes to Ashes

by joufancyhuh



Series: The Pigeon & The Prince [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Avvar, Avvar Culture and Customs, Bed-sharing, Before DA2 starts, Bisexual Sebastian, Budding feelings, Canon Divergent AU, Demons, Dirty Talk, Dying father, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Feelings, Ferelden based fic, Giant Spiders, Gore, Heavy Lore, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Lore - Freeform, Loss of Virginity, Mage Hawke - Freeform, Magical overflow, Meek hawke with a temper, Mentions of an orgy, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Power Struggle, Sebastian speaks Old Scottish Gaelic, Slow Burn, Staff-less magic, Twisted Lore, Urn of Sacred Ashes, Violence, Wild Days Sebastian, bathing together, graphic depictions of sex, sebastian is a little shit, tent sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Chasing the trail of a fairytale, young Hawke teams up with a would-be thief as she tracks down the cure for her father’s ailments.





	1. Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be something short, but I'm learning it's impossible for me to do short fics. I've had an idea for awhile where young Hawke meets young, wild Sebastian. This fic kind of blossomed from there, and oh boy, it's quite the wild ride. If anyone else has any wild days Sebastian fics, please send them my way!
> 
>  
> 
> [Read the short set before the start of this chapter!](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/169404167512/so-ive-decided-to-start-doing-perfect-100s-here)
> 
>  
> 
> [Read Sebastian's version of their first meeting](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/174706389752/survival-techniques)

 

 

“You give that back!”

Kalea Hawke shoved through the crowd of the busy Denerim market, cursing under her breath. The rogue who stole her purse glanced behind him, a coy smile on his lips as he skated through the crowd with ease, the distance between them growing in length.

Kalea growled, her breath coming out in visible smoke. Shit, her blood boiled enough that her magic vibrated just under her skin, ready for attack; if she didn’t regain control soon, the templars would swoop down on her and lock her up in the Circle. Her mission would never get accomplished if that happened, and she couldn’t allow that.

After making certain no one saw the momentary lapse of control, she fell back, moving out of the crowd to the sidelines. She no longer spotted the amber-haired man who ran off with the only bit of coin she carried with her.

She didn’t know what one did in this situation … normal people went to the law, but her family taught her not to trust them, that they feared her kind. And for her family, she left them behind in Highever. She never traveled alone before now, and three weeks into her quest, some thief had stolen her purse.

_ Shit, shit, double shit. _

What would her father do in this situation? She attempted to channel the eldest Hawke, but her mind remained mottled with the constant movement around her. Denerim was a lot larger than Highever, and with her purse now missing, she feared others might come to pick through the rest of her belongings.  

If she grew brazen or desperate enough, she supposed she could look at the Chanter's board for jobs, but as she passed by the entryway into the Chantry garden, two rough looking Templars glared from their post.

_ Nope, time to try another route. _

She ducked down an alleyway, trying to weigh her options before proceeding. The rash side of her wanted to indulge her temper, to find that miserable thief and teach him not to piss of a mage. But even as the idea came to her mind, she knew she couldn’t fight him. It would be all too easy for someone, even if that someone held no repute, to turn her in. And her hand to hand combat would never outmatch a rogue, she knew this for certain.

She sighed, thankful that she still held onto her maps. She ducked her head into her collar as she passed a guardsman, careful not to make eye contact. Hopefully, the person she came to Denerim to see might be able to help her out. Maybe they would know where she could find work.

She hurried toward the local tavern; Brother Genitivi resided across the way. As the Chantry’s leading scholar, he was her first stop. She didn’t leave with a Plan B, just determination for Plan A to succeed. Holding her breath, nerves high, she rapped on the worn oak door.

A man around her father’s age opened the door, annoyance in his brow as he assessed Kalea. “He’s busy.” He started to close the door, but she shoved her foot in its path, keeping it from closing in full.

“Please. I just need a few minutes of his time.” Her voice cracked with her plea to be seen. Everything revolved around the Brother’s help, and, as her mother often put it, Kalea never knew when to give up. 

“I said he’s busy.”

“I’m not leaving until I see him.” She tried to make herself seem younger, smoothing out her robes and flashing a cheeky smile. Innocent enough that he might trust her, though her irritation began to build. This man, so quick to turn her away, knew nothing of her sacrifices to stand at this doorstep.  “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

The man sighed, but opened the door enough for her to slide in. “He won’t be back for a few days. But come in. I’ll see if I can help.”

She bowed her head in appreciation as she took a step inside, relief washing through her. “Thank you, Mr …?”

“Weylon. And you are?”

She held out her hand, which he took after a moment’s consideration. “Kalea.”

“You seem awfully young to be here on your own.”

She frowned, her ploy working perhaps too well. Did she tell him the truth? Spill her mission out to him and risk him turning her away before she saw the brother? “Not as young as I might seem. I’m 21.”

He tsked. “And unmarried, I see. You shouldn’t be alone out here. The Markets are full of thieves and…” His voice fell off as he spotted her wince at the mention of thieves. “They already got to you, did they?”

She nodded, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a rich shade of pink. “He cut my purse strings and took off. That coin was all I had.”

Her new companion shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “And now you need a place to stay, and food, I suppose.”

She was no beggar, despite what this annoying man might think of her. Quick to jump in and redeem herself in his eyes, she added, “I’m willing to work for it. But I also need to talk to Brother Genitivi. It’s an urgent matter.”

Weylon motioned to one of the chairs at his dinner table. “I can get you fed, but it’s unbecoming for a young woman to stay here. Fortunately for you, I know Sanga at The Pearl who will board you if you do chores around the bar.”

She took a seat, the idea of a fresh meal she didn’t need to hunt and prepare over the campfire appealing. “I appreciate your help, but that’s not why I’m here. I need to know-”

“I help him in his research.” Weylon pulled some soup from off the fire and ladled it into two bowls. He set the first in front of her. “But he still keeps a lot of it to himself. Whatever you’re looking to gain from coming here, it will have to wait until his return.”

She looked down at what appeared to be vegetable soup, her stomach rumbling at the sight. It was too long since she ate home-cooked food. “If I leave, you’ll remember to send for me, right? At The Pearl?” What choice did she have in this plan? Perhaps it was an attempt to rid her from this place, but she saw no other options. Her spoon stirring her soup, she gave a resigned sigh. 

He nodded as he took the seat across from her at the table. “I wouldn’t deny you his audience. It’s obvious that whatever brought you here is important to you. I truly hope he can help.”

Kalea almost believed he meant his words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should explain some things.
> 
> "Her family's in Highever?" Yes, because Hawke's family moves around a lot. It didn't make sense to me that young Hawke's family stayed in place for four years. This will be addressed in the fic.
> 
> "Wouldn't the templars notice her staff?" Who said she had a staff?
> 
> "Why is Sebastian in Ferelden?" This will be addressed in the fic.
> 
> "What year is it?" 9:26.
> 
> Thank you for any comments and kudos you give to this fic!


	2. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’ll make me?” Lowering his voice, he whispered, “ I know what you are. ”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to Chapter 2! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. <3
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Drabble set in between Chapter 1 and 2](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/169407395502/set-between-chapter-1-and-2-of-ashes-to-ashes)

She could hear The Pearl before it graced her sight; loud, raucous laughter drifting through the dirt streets. Loud, obnoxious patrons hung around the entrance, leering at her as she floated closer to the door. Kalea stifled her grimace as she pushed through, reminding herself of the desperation that brought here there.

Desperate times, that whole saying.

She sighed, stopping at the counter. Eyes rolled over her from the patrons, their gaze crawling her skin.

“Is Sanga here? Weylon told me I could speak with her about work.”

The man behind the counter appraised her figure before thumbing further back into the bar. “She’s back there. I don’t know if she’ll take you though.”

It took a second for Kalea to realize what type of establishment she entered into. She glanced around, noticing scantily-clad men and women sitting on laps and playing with hair as they fake laugh. Oh no.

How did Weylon know someone like Sanga? But as Kalea entered the main area, her doubts flew away. Sanga stood tall, shoulders squared, in a dress that eluded power, but not enough to gloat about it. She looked regal, standing in the center of the room as her eyes surveyed the room.

She smiled when her gaze connected with Kalea. But she didn’t move forward, instead letting the young Hawke come to her. Kalea recognized a power play when she saw one, her mother not above performing one herself. Kalea drifted over to her, trying not to let the older woman see how her nerves danced under her skin.

“I’m here for a job,” she managed to stammer out, keeping her head down as a sign of respect.

Sanga’s hand brushed Kalea’s chin, forcing it up until their eyes connected once more. “Weylon sent word ahead. You’re pretty enough to be more than just a servant, if you wished. It would earn you more.”

Kalea’s cheeks blotted red as she stepped back. “No-No, ma’am. I’m good with cleaning.”

Sanga smiled. “A virgin then? Those are rare around here.” Her laughter filled the air like the jingling of small bells, but in a way that Kalea didn’t feel as though she mocked her. Sanga snapped her fingers as the man from the front counter appeared by her side. “Take Miss…”

“Kalea. Kalea Hawke.”

Sanga nodded, as though approving of the name. “Miss Hawke here to the back. She’ll be our new servant girl for the time being.”

Kalea bowed the top half of her body. “Thank you, Miss Sanga. I appreciate you giving me this chance.”

Sanga tittered, hiding her laughter behind her hand. “So polite! That’s so uncommon around here. I hope you will retain it when you leave.”

* * *

Kalea found herself enjoying the company of her new work family in the time that followed. Many came from a situation similar to her own, leaving home then robbed before they could achieve their dreams. After hours, they drank and exchanged stories about the customers, leaving in the vivid details that made her cheeks go blood red. They made a game of embarrassing her, an easy feat to accomplish. Some even offered to relieve her of her "problem", which she denied before hiding her face in her sleeve.

She didn't mind the work either, used to scrubbing floors or washing linens from living with her family. Magic wasn't allowed in the house, her mother a firm believer in hands-on work, despite 3/5s of the house having magical abilities. Working like this again sent waves of homesickness coursing through her.

But she couldn't return, not yet. 

The summons from Weylon came, a week after her arrival. Sanga patted her shoulder as she gave it to her. “Does this mean you won’t be back?”

Kalea looked to the parchment in her hands. “It depends on what Brother Genitivi has to say.”

“You will always be welcomed back, my dear.”

Kalea hugged the woman, a surprised “oomph!” coming from Sanga. Arms closed around Kalea, arms like her mother’s, as she stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Now go! It’s best not to keep the Brother waiting.”

Kalea started out the door until a blur of amber stopped her in her tracks. She turned her head just as blue eyes connected with hers, recognition taking over both their faces. She pointed and screeched, “You!”

The rogue from before smiled before flipping over the table which held his card game, grabbing her purse from its edge and darting toward the door. Two regular patrons stepped in, blocking his scramble for the door. He reached for a bow on his back, but two other patrons grabbed his arms and forced them behind his back. He squirmed, cursing under his breath as he shot glares around him.

Sanga stepped forward, next to Kalea, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is the man who stole your purse?”

She nodded, returning his glare tenfold. “The same.”

The rogue grinned, looking at Sanga while ignoring Kalea. “It was a joke, aye? I was simply borrowing it.” She couldn’t place his accent, something foreign and unfamiliar. He certainly wasn’t from Ferelden, and not Orlais either.

Sanga held up a hand to silence him. “I will leave it up to our little bird to decide what must be done. The crimes you committed were against her and not The Pearl, though it goes without saying that you won’t be allowed back.”

He struggled against the two men that held him, attempting to break free. “The lass is just a whore. Who cares if I took her money? She’ll surely make more, lying on her back for you.”

Kalea never even saw Sanga move, but the older woman sprinted across the room in a fury, the sound of the slap she gave echoing in the quiet. The man’s cheek reddened at the contact.

He growled, spitting at her feet. “Fuck you and your whore.”

Kalea found her voice in the pit of her stomach. The man belonged in the prisons, given his treatment of Sanga and his thievery. But as angry as she felt, she knew she couldn’t be responsible for the man’s death. She stepped next to Sanga, grabbing his hair and yanking his face toward hers. “I’m not a whore,” she snarled. “I only had to come here because _you_ stole my purse.” She tightened her hold in his hair, a small whimper of pain muffled inside his mouth. “Now apologize to Sanga and these good people.”

“Or what?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’ll make me?” Lowering his voice, he whispered, “ _I know what you are._ ”

Shock flooded through her system. He saw that puff of ice. Damn, shit, double shit. She let go of him and took a step back, trying not to let her reaction show on her face. “I could have you killed.”

“Aye, but not before I get the word out.” He grinned.

Sanga looked to Kalea. “What is he talking about, Little Bird?”

Kalea glanced from the concerned Sanga to the smirking rogue. She didn’t see any different options than the one that ended in templars and prison. She sighed, running a hand over her face. “Let him go.”

Sanga started in. “If you’re in trouble, if he has something on you-”

“It’s just a purse. As long as I get it back, I hold no ill will toward him.” She responded between clenched teeth, glaring at him while she did.

Sanga sighed. “It’s your choice. I just hope you know what you’re doing, Little Bird.”

“So do I,” she muttered.

Sanga snapped her fingers and the two patrons that held his arms released. The rogue straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, smirk still plastered on his face. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out her purse, tossing it her way. “Not that you had much in there to begin with. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

She caught it and emptied it out into her palm, counting it up. “Hey, I’m missing three gold pieces!”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m bad at poker.”

She glared before shoving her purse back into her pocket. Her knuckles grazed the parchment of her summons, a reminder that she needed to go before the Brother changed his mind. “Whatever. Just keep away from me.” She brushed past him and out into the open air of Denerim.

He followed at her heels, and when enough distance put them far from The Pearl, he leaned in by her ear and hissed, “ _Apostate_.”

She scowled and spun around. “What of it? Want to say it a bit louder so everyone can hear?” She shoved him back and marched ahead, trying not to let him bother her.

He caught up with no effort, matching pace beside her with a stupid grin on his lips. “Why do that when blackmail is so much better?”

She groaned, but didn’t stop again. “I will end you, don’t think I won’t. You shouldn’t mess with my kind.”

He snickered as he hopped ahead and turned, walking backwards to face her. “I’m not messing with _them_ , just _you,_ lass.”

“Well, don’t.”

“You know, you could almost be attractive if you did something with your rat’s nest.”

She kicked at his leg, but he darted back too quick. “Too slow! Maker, you’re a shit fighter. How have you survived this long on your own?”

“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” She stooped to pick up a rock, throwing it towards his head. He dodged it at the last second, laughing while he did.

“Terrible shot, too.”

She clenched her hands as fire burned through her veins, the air in her mouth growing hot enough for a puff of smoke to leave her lips.

That did it. He stopped laughing and fell back to her side, quiet now. When she stopped at Brother Genitivi’s door, she glared at him. “You’re not allowed in.”

“Boyfriend?”

She scowled. “I’m not going to let you ruin this for me. I need this. _Please_.” Maybe the desperation in her voice finally penetrated his thick skull, but he stepped back, nodding.

“What’s in there?”

“Answers, I hope.” She sighed. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be stealing more purses?”

He shrugged, a forced grin on his face. “Can’t go back to The Pearl, so what else am I going to do?” He pointed to the bar. “I’ll be in there when you’re done. In case you decide you want some company.”

She fought the smile threatening to form. Something in his eyes read hope, that he wanted her to come for him after the meeting, whatever her reasoning. Maybe he was just lonely, or maybe he sought adventure. She’d think about it.

As he left for across the street, she knocked once more on the oak door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian may seem out of character, but keep in mind that he related himself to Isabela during this phase.


	3. Act Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If she wasn’t in the middle of a very crowded bar, she’d set his clothes on fire with a snap of her fingers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that I already have a sequel to this story planned? And another sequel to that story? 
> 
> On this edition of "Sebastian is a little shit..."
> 
>  
> 
> [Short set between Chapter 2 and 3](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/169408862957/set-between-chapters-2-3-of-ashes-to-ashes)

Weylon escorted Kalea to the door after her talk with the brother. Her spirit renewed, she now knew her next destination, the Kocari Wilds. Hope blossomed in her chest for the first time since the trip began, a clear end in sight.

As Weylon opened the door, he put a hand on Kalea’s shoulder. “The Wilds are a dangerous place. A young woman like yourself needs protection.”

Her eyes flickered over to the tavern. “I’m considering hiring someone to accompany me there.”

He gave a curt nod of approval and watched her walk out into the dusty market streets. “Take care, my child. May Andraste guide you.”

She waited for the door to close before heading across, dodging carriages and foot traffic, cutting her way to stand in front of the tavern. Technically, he offered her company, and while she had an idea that he meant a different kind, she didn’t let it deter her from pushing open the front door and marching in. Her eyes found his amoung the patrons as he sipped his mug of ale, legs crossed on a well-worn couch that faced the entryway.

He grinned at her approach before leaning to whisper in the ear of the attractive man whose arm circled his hip. When the rogue grabbed the tunic of the man and forced him into a kiss, eyes still on her, she hid her blush in a cough and continued toward him. He didn’t stop, even with her so close, instead sliding his hand up the man’s thigh as the kiss deepened between them.

When her approach could no longer be ignored, the rogue broke the kiss and smirked. “Aye, I thought you might come see me. I got you a gift ... well, _us_ a gift.” He brushed the man’s blonde hair out of his face. “So, shall we commence in the back?”

Kalea crossed her arms, shaking her head with a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. “I think I made a mistake coming here. See you.” She whipped around, heading for the door back out. This guy was unbelievable; what did she think she was doing, trying to take him with her?

A hand slipped around her wrist, nimble fingers holding tight as she attempted to yank herself out of his grasp. Her head turned to see a questioning look in his gaze. “Just some harmless fun. No need to storm off, lass.”

If she wasn’t in the middle of a very crowded bar, she’d set his clothes on fire with a snap of her fingers. Hence the reason she needed someone like him for moments such as this, someone whose loyalty might be bought, someone with a sense of adventure. But did it need to be him though?

It made it easier that he knew she practiced magic, and he hadn’t told yet. Could she risk that with someone else? She stifled a groan, regretting the question she dared to ask.

“Look, Fopdoodle, I didn’t come here to join you and your ... friend. I came in here to ask you for something.”

“First you insult me, then you want a favor?” He let go of her, chuckling. “And why would I help you? When you’re a ... you know.”

“Because I refuse to believe that you’re as vile as you seem. Somewhere, deep, deep, _deep_ inside of you, there must be some good nature I can appeal to. I need help.”

He made his way back over to the couch, pausing to reassure that she followed. The man from before looked between the two of them. “Should I get us a room?”

The rogue shook his head. “Sadly, no. But I’ll be sure to look you up next time I’m in Denerim.” The man huffed and stood, but the rogue pulled him back in for another kiss, tongue shoved into his mouth, before pushing him away and slapping his ass. “Now get out of here.”

When the man walked out of the bar, the rogue grinned, holding up a black purse. “How long do you think it’ll take for him to notice?”

This, this _skelpie-limmer,_ this was who she trusted to get her to the Wilds? Desperate times indeed. She took a seat in the far corner of the couch, compacting herself into a small area so that they didn’t brush against one another.

He picked up his earlier drink and chugged the rest before slamming it back down on the table. A few patrons tossed annoyed glances their way, but the rogue brushed them off. “What kind of help are we talking here, lass? Cause if it’s to be less of a prude, that might be even beyond my capabilities.” He leaned toward her, a wolfish smile on his lips. “And I have many such ... capabilities.” He licked his lips, eyes flicking down to her own suddenly chapped lips. She resisted her temptation to wet them, refusing to give this man anything.

“I need an escort to the Korcari Wilds.”

“The Wilds?” He blinked, sinking back into the couch. “What business does a lass like you have there?”

“My own. But as you’re well aware, I can’t defend myself in public situations. I need someone to help me guard my secret.”

“And you turn to me?”

Maker preserve her, but, “I have no other options.”

He went silent, as though weighing out his options in his head. When he opened his mouth again, after a few minutes of tension building in the air between them, she held her breath, preparing for the worst. Her plan was lunacy; he would need to be half insane to agree to it. Traveling with an apostate he just met? Her options may be limited but his were not.

“What’s in it for me?”

Of course his greed dictated his decision. “Any treasure we find along the way would be yours. And you’d get an adventure to write home about.”

She knew it was a weak argument, but what else could she offer him? She didn’t carry a lot of coin, partially thanks to him. He could fend for himself, no reason to tag along with her. She recognized her disadvantage in the situation.

Gritting her teeth, she begged. “Please. If you have any semblance of a heart, you would see that I’m desperate.”

His eyes glanced to the door, perhaps plotting a quick escape. But his answer surprised her. “I’m not heartless. You need help, who am I to deny a lass my assistance? Besides, I think I’ve worn out my welcome here.” He jumped to his feet just as the tavern door threw open, the man from before back with some of the guards. Kalea arose, magic tingling under her skin, yearning for the fight. But her new companion took off toward the back rooms. “Try to keep up!”

She kept at his heels, better than in their first meeting. He flipped over chairs to delay the guards; using a bit of wind in her hops to help her clear the obstacles as she raced into one of the side rooms.

The rogue locked the door behind him, moving furniture in front of the door. “Don’t you have a barrier spell you could use?”

She nodded, whispering as the door began to glow a light blue. Fists pounded on the other side as she finished her incantation. She glanced over to him. “Now what?”

He already started toward the back of the room. In one swift motion, he unlocked the window and threw it open, holding out his hand for her to take. “I’m Sebastian.”

She took it, letting him yank her through with him. “Kalea.”

They ran toward the gates to Denerim as the sound of wood splintered from inside the room they vacated. “I feel like this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”

And for the first time since she left her home in Highever, she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks as the breeze blew her hair behind her shoulders. After a few seconds, Sebastian’s own joined hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocab for medieval insults:  
> FOPDOODLE:An insignificant or foolish man.  
> SKELPIE-LIMMER: A badly-behaved child. Coined by the Scottish poet Robert Burns from the old Scots word skelpie, meaning “misbehaving” or “deserving punishment.”


	4. Act Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You may have magic, but I have skill.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my wonderful beta, [GuileandGall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/guileandgall)
> 
> I'm real real happy with this chapter, guys. Like holy hell. Maybe that's why it's such a long one. And ooo, just wait until the next one!

The Fade tingled at the edge of Kalea’s mind while she slept, calling her into it like so many nights before. The familiar hooded demon with teeth for a face floated in front of her, arms outstretched in her direction.  

“You just won’t stay away, will you?” Kalea’s hand swirled, rolling a ice dagger into her palms. She glared through the haze of the realm, preparing her attack. “I told you before, leave me alone. I’m not interested.”

The many teeth of the demon grinned in an hideous smile as it floated closer. “You do not concede?”

“Never,” she growled, hurling her dagger in its direction. The demon dissipated, reappearing a shorter distance away.

“You cannot hold me off forever.”

Before Kalea could react, a claw caressed her forehead, collapsing her Fade body as blackness sprouted from the ground, tendrils wrapping around her to constrain her. She struggled against them to no avail, forced to watch the scenes of another nightmare unfold in front of her eyes.

Her father appeared, a pale imitation of who he once was. She could see the sickness eating at him as he hobbled closer. His once brown hair fell out in clumps as he stumbled, face growing gaunt as he weakened. His hand shook as he pointed in her direction. “You abandoned me. You, my eldest daughter, left me to _die_.”

Kalea bit into her lip to keep from crying out, to not attempt reasoning with the apparition. She knew it only antagonized the demon, letting it know where her armor weakened.

The spirit kept on. “I needed you. Your family needed you and you left us here. You couldn’t watch me fade away, so you ran. Do you really think you’re going to find what you’re looking for? I’ll die before you come back.”

Her father limped closer before collapsing. Her mother and siblings materialized above him, weeping and glaring at Kalea. “You could’ve done more,” her mother growled. “You should’ve been here to see him off.”

“I could’ve done more,” Bethany stammered before a red light overtook her, her body twisting her into an abomination. Kalea closed her eyes, she knew what came next, but the screams penetrated any hope she held of blocking the scene out. Carver went first, trying to protect their mother; he always did.

Tears trickled down the corners of her eyes as she attempted to ignore her mother's shrieking, the sickening sound as her sister tore her mother from limb to limb. Kalea couldn't fight the sobs that broke through her barrier. The scene restarted itself, her father's stumbled walk toward her, flesh sagging off his frame as his hollowed eyes glared.

Hands eventually woke her; rough, calloused fingers digging into her bare shoulders as her upper half shook. Sebastian lorded over her, concern brimming in his blue eyes. “Wake up, lass!”

She regained her senses, shoving him off her as she cradled her head in her hands. Sebastian took a seat beside her on the dirt. “You were screaming in your sleep.”

She hid her embarrassment inside a cough as her heartbeat fell back to normal. “Just a nightmare,” she whispered, her voice a bit hoarse. “It happens sometimes.”

“That’s some nightmare,” he replied, eyes assessing her, perhaps to gauge if she would be alright. Nothing she couldn’t handle, already handled by herself many nights before.

“Sorry if I woke you,” she mumbled, rolling a fireball into her hands to break up the chill in her bones.

“Are you alright?”

She ignored his question, losing herself in thought as she stared into the fire. Her arcane studies told her about despair demons, how they sent nightmares until the receiver gave in to possession. She never expected to be subjected to one herself, and Maker, not even the books could’ve warned her about the intensity of dealing with one. She hoped Bethany faired better, with only a desire demon to deflect.

They were Hawkes; Hawkes never backed down from a fight.

* * *

Everything went back to normal between Sebastian and her the next morning. The concern he showed the previous night disappeared with the moon as he rolled his bed, preparing for the day’s journey ahead.

“So what are we after, anyway? What’s in the Wilds?”

Kalea splashed water onto her face, a sore attempt to awaken herself for travel. Her sleep grew restless after the demon’s visit, and eventually she gave up altogether, choosing to hunt down a rabbit and cook it for breakfast. He hadn’t bothered to say thank you as he ate the larger half, complaining about how she overcooked it.

“You’re on a need to know basis. And right now, you don’t need to know.” She tied back her hair into a low-hanging ponytail, then draped her cloak over her shoulders.

“So I’m just risking my precious life for fuck-all, then, aye, Little Bird?”

She glared as she tied her bedroll to her backpack. “I told you, my name is Kalea. Only my coworkers at the Pearl called me that.”

“You’re right. Little Bird makes you sound ... sweet. You’re more like the squawking pigeons begging for scraps on the square.”

She rolled her eyes as they started back toward the road. “Are you always so feisty first thing in the morning? Can’t I get just a few minutes of quiet humanity from you?”

He shrugged, a mischievous glint to his eyes. “No need to get your knickers in a twist, Pidge.” He chuckled to himself as he ducked branches and hopped over logs, no doubt infatuated with his own cleverness.

Her nose wrinkled with distaste of her new nickname while trying to think of her own for him. Trouble seemed all too appropriate, but her companion would like the name too much, she already knew him too well for her taste. Maybe she would luck out and they could walk in silence for some time until they stopped for supper.

Nearly an hour passed before he started up again.

“No, really, what are we after? You’re going to tell me, right?”

At the sound of his voice, her hands clenched into tight fists as she resisted the urge to pelt him with pebbles. Holding her tongue a moment, she finally said, "It's personal."

“You know, if you were in my place, you’d want to know too. So come on, Pidge, give it up.”

She sighed, having learned quite quickly that his pestering wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. She didn’t feel comfortable divulging too much; him knowing her secret and waking her from her nightmare still left her uneasy, as if he could ascertain knowledge about her from just those two things. She needed to entice him to stay, not drive him away with the truth.

“There are elvhen ruins that are said to hold a powerful magic.” She waited for the inevitable _what magic?_ but it didn’t come.

Instead, her companion nodded his head. “I didn’t take you for the power hungry type.”

She gritted her teeth but let her silence speak to his presumptions. His line of thinking kept her secrets, gave her the privacy she sought from their arrangement. Let him see her how he would, she knew her truth.

He intruded in the blissful quiet of their walk again with more questions. “So, no staff? Or do you carry a miniature one in your cloak?”

She shook her head, grateful for a change of subject to one she could manage. “Wand is the word you’re looking for, and no. Just my Maker-given talent and years of training.”

He pursed his lips as he studied her from his place by her side. “I thought mages needed that stuff?”

“It’s a focus, something to draw your gifts into it. But there are ways around it, though I’m sure you won’t see the Circle teaching those techniques. It won’t be to the same effect, but I feel I could take on a staffed mage with complete confidence.”

“And a Templar?”

She paled at the mention of her long-time tormentors. They were boogeymen used to keep her and her siblings in line their whole lives, lest they come to whisk them from their beds. Her father told her the stories, of the way their own powers worked in counter-effect to mages, the soul-draining feeling their techniques caused. He also spoke of the good ones, such as the one who helped him escape the Circle to be with their mother.

Yet the good ones didn’t force them from town to town, changing names and appearances as they attempted to blend into yet another village. No, Templars existed as a separate demon, apart from the ones of the Fade.

She shook her head, the action slow and sluggish as she dragged herself away from her thoughts. “No, not a Templar. But that’s why you’re here.” She forced a wide smile as she peered up at him.

It didn’t fool him, his aquamarine eyes more attentive than she gave him credit for. “If we run into one, how much trouble are we in?”

She let her lips fall back into their set frown. “That depends on you. I’ll be useless, immobile if they’re talented enough.”

Turning his on scrutiny back on him, she watched him process the information, the wheels in his brain spinning before his cockiness kicked back in. “Great idea, bringing me along. You’re a smarter lass than I initially gave you credit for.” His fingers brushed the ends of her hair down her back. “Prettier, too.”

She reeled away from his touch, cheeks scorching as stones rolled to her feet as a reflex, surrounding her as they lifted into the air. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, trying to refocus her breathing. One by one, the rocks fell away as she collected and calmed herself once more. Her father’s voice filtered into her brain, instructions from one of his many lessons ringing through her thoughts.

_Magic relies on emotion. If you feel yourself start to lose control of it, calm down. Breathe. Count until you regain control._

She focused on the air around her, entering her lungs through her nose then out through her mouth. When she felt her magic subside back beneath her skin, she raised her gaze to meet her confused companion.

“Don’t forget that I’m only playing at being weak. Touch me again and I won’t hold back next time, got that?”

He tsked. “Such an angry lass. Don’t worry, won’t happen again, Pidge.” As he walked further down the road, he gestured to the bow on his back. “And don’t think you’d survive a match between us. You may have magic, but I have skill.”

She bit her tongue and continued on, lagging behind to keep an eye on him. Depending on how this played out, they might see the full extent of each other’s abilities sooner than either of them imagined.

* * *

Three days passed with unease as the two kept their distance from each other. Each night bedevilled with another nightmare, another visit from her personal demon, back for another round to torment her. Whenever she plucked herself from sleep, she found Sebastian staring from his bedroll, something that could be mistaken for concern in his gaze, though he no longer made any motion to wake her.

She could handle it, a mantra she whispered into the night as she feigned rest. She debated going out of their way to find a magic shop, but considered the Templars that might surround the place, using it as bait to lure apostates like her in. She needed a ward, one against the despair demon. She couldn’t recall ever having seen one in the tomes her father kept, not for the one, who plagued her. Perhaps she could attempt Fade-walking, though extreme danger existed there.

The pounding inside her skull proved an unwelcome distraction along her journey, though she could not say what was most responsible for it--the demon or Sebastian. The rogue learned to keep his hands to himself, but his mouth moved like the galloping of horses with no destination in sight, unrestrained and unnecessary. She missed the days of traveling by herself, the quiet crunch of leaves underfoot, the soft rustling of the trees, being able to actually hear birdsong. Weren’t rogues supposed to be silent, stealthy?

She also missed bathing herself in the river, something she avoided in the presence of her lecherous companion. She held no doubt that as soon as she removed her clothes, he would come for a peek at her bare skin. Maybe she should try in the hours after a nightmare, when he fell back asleep but she tossed and turned until dawn broke.

Sebastian halted on the road ahead, head swiveling from side to side as he eased his bow off his back and took out an arrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but he tapped his finger to his lips before setting his arrow. He aimed into the woods, muscles taut with the tension of the string as he lined up his shot. In a hard _ping_ , he let go, no hesitation as he grabbed another arrow.

A wet thud followed by a curse came from close by; branches snapped on both sides of the road. She stepped in closer to Sebastian as frost coated her hands, her breath leaving her parted lips in a visible form.

Bandits, no less than twelve of them, stepped out from their hiding places in the forest, circling them with swords drawn. “Well, lookee here, gents,” the bigger one sneered, a scar crossing from his hairline down to his chin. “She’s awfully purtee, dontcha think?”

“The lass isn’t on the table, lads. Sorry to disappoint,” Sebastian called, arrow aimed into the chest of one of the scrawnier men.

“Oh, she’ll be on the table, on the ground, wherever we wan her,” Scarface replied as he raised his blade. “We don have much use for yous though.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Sebastian taunted. “But I think the lass might have something to say to that. Don’t you, Pidge?”

She grinned, a little touched that he included her in this boy’s club banter. She stretched her fingers as ice shot from her hands to the ground, freezing the dirt beneath her feet. “If you want me, you’re going to have to come and get me.”

She dug her heels into the dirt as she raised her hands to the closest bandit; Sebastian made the first move, arrow piercing the guy’s ribs and dropping him. “Two, if you count the one in the forest!” He laughed as he loaded up his bow, the next arrow flying through another’s head. “Three!”

A burst of cold magic shot from her palms to the two closest bandits, turning them to ice before they could move to protect themselves. She joined in on her companion’s counting, shouting, “Two!” as she ran up to the statues, a swift kick shattering them into pieces.

An arrow flew by her head, hitting someone behind her. She turned her attention away to glare at the boastful marksmen as he shouted, “Four.”

“Lucky shot,” she mumbled as she spun to a hastily advancing bandit, piercing his chest with icicles. “Three. And…” she swiveled, more sharp shards of ice pelting a grouping of bandits that advanced on Sebastian. “Six.”

He laughed as he pinned someone to his right. “Five. You’re almost not a bad fighter.”

“Same to you.” She ran toward a bandit who swung his sword in her direction, narrowly missing her cloak. She fell to her knees, rolling to the left as she shot a spray of icicles in his direction. They punctured through half of his body, leaving him a human-sized pin cushion. “Seven. And glad to see my gamble on you paid off.”

They both looked to where Scarface once stood. Her face fell a she glanced around, trying to find him. “No…” she muttered, rising to her feet. “No!”

He shrugged. “So one got away. He can warn everyone against messing with us.”

“He can warn the _Templars_!” She sprinted off into the woods, where she thought he might have gone to hide.

Sebastian followed, close to her heels. “We’ll be gone before they come.”

“They track, you cumberground! Once they get your scent, they don’t let up, and I can’t--I can’t …” Her magic flared around her, ice edging along the leaves and trees around her.

Sebastian cried out, jumping back as he shook his frosted fingertips. “Okay, okay, I get it!”

“No, you don’t!” She pushed further into the wood, ignoring how wild her magic grew. The ground stiffened underfoot with each angry stomp. He kept his distance, careful to avoid her magic lest it lash out at him again.

“You don’t know what they do, how ruthless they can be. You don’t know what my family and I have been through because of them. How could you? But I’m not going to let it happen again, I’m not. This mission is too bloody important for a fucking BANDIT to end it!”

A sweep of ice raced ahead of her at the punctuation of her rant, flash-freezing everything in front of her. She huffed, her breath coming out in bitter drifts as her eyes darted from tree to tree, searching for a scrap to cling to in her search.

“I can track him, but you have to stop freezing everything.” Sebastian’s quiet voice broke through her fury, speaking to the rational side of her mind. He stood at the edge of the frost, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the frozen trees.

She shot him a glare, but her father’s voice waited for her, recounting the steps for dragging herself back from the brink. She paused between each number, and by the time she reached fifty, her fury subsided into a dull rage, brimming just under the surface. “Make it quick,” she snapped.

He nodded and readied his bow, closing his eyes as she watched with keen interest for his next move.

A twig snapped to their left; in one swift motion, he pivoted his hips and fired toward the origin of the sound. It made the same wet sliding sound as before, followed by a heavy thud to the ground.

She raced over before he could move to stop her, branches breaking against her skin as her blinding rage carried her to the opening.

Scarface laid in a puddle of his own blood, Sebastian’s arrow through one of his eyes. She kicked the lump of a body for good measure to make sure he died, then another, grunting with the each kick. Her effort gained in volume until she screamed at the corpse, her foot slamming  into his stomach.

Sebastian grabbed her wrist, interrupting her momentum for the next kick. She didn’t realize he rejoined her. “That’s enough. We need to leave this area, now. Before travelers pass.”

She yanked her hand back, glaring as she did. "We need to move the bodies first, at least the ones I killed. No one cares if an archer took down a few bandits.”

He nodded and waited for her to lead the way back to the road. She kicked Scarface once more time for good measure, then started back.

* * *

The two sat tense around the campfire that night. Her companion didn’t bring up her slip in control, and for that, she was grateful. He hunted for dinner, allowing her time to wash the blood away. She didn’t care if he saw her naked, she needed to be clean and free from the bandit filth that coated her hair and skin.

When she arrived back to their camp, Sebastian already started cooking the doe he felled, to the best of his sad ability. She brushed out her damp hair as she watched him tend to the fire, poking at it with a stick as he kept an eye on their food.

“It shouldn’t be long until we reach the Wilds,” he brought over the burned steaks and sat down beside her on the ground.

She nodded, thanking him as he handed her a plate. The meat smelled amazing, her mouth watering at the aroma. She didn’t realize how much she hungered, but extravagant displays of magic tended to leave her ravenous.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Usually she cooked the food because he griped about having to kill and dress the animal. But since the bandits, he hadn’t directed one negative barb towards her, and there had been no one peeking on her at the river. The shift in his personality unsettled her. Had she scared him?

“I’m sorry for how I treated you before. I didn’t realize how important this quest was to you.” He bit into his steak, chewing as his eyes reflected the fire.

She nibbled on her own, musing over his apology. So not scared, but something else, something she didn’t like. Pity almost.

“Stop that, being nice. It’s weird.” She kept her eyes to her plate as she pushed around her food. “Can things just go back to how they were between us?”

He chuckled, one of his hands playing with the ends of her hair on her back. “Sure thing, Pidge.”

She groaned, wrinkling her nose as she moved out of his reach, hiding a small grin in the crook of her arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocab time!  
> CUMBERGROUND—someone who is so useless, they just serve to take up space.


	5. Act Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You probably think this is stupid, chasing after a myth. I wouldn’t blame you if you decide to leave.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the lovely [GuileandGall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/guileandgall) for her wonderful betaing.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Kalea glared over the top of the map at her exhausted companion whose shoulders sagged under the weight of his pack. “Not lost, just ... misguided. Perhaps we should’ve turned left at that fork instead of right.”

“The fork from two days ago?” He kicked a rock by his foot off into the trees, scattering a small gathering of blackbirds that rested on a nearby log. They flew off, screeching at the disturbance. “Let me see the map.”

She held it away, folding it back up and shoving it into one of her cloak pockets. “I can read a bloody map.”

“Aye, you sure? Because backtracking on a perhaps isn’t inspiring confidence.”

“Your yapping isn’t exactly helpful either, so I guess we both have our faults.” Her eyes fell to the setting sun, the mist tightening its hold on the area. “We should make camp. Try again tomorrow.”

He didn’t protest, not when she knew that he could feel it too, the unnatural restlessness the mist brought. It rolled over the ground in a milky molasses, soon to overtake the night as a whole. They hurried to a clearing and she set to work on the campfire as he hunted down sustenance. The fog made it difficult to navigate after a certain point, and if Sebastian stayed out too long, the fog would keep him till morning.

She rounded up sticks and logs, tenting them before casting a fireball. By the time he returned with two small rabbits, she sat warm, reading over the map once more in the burning light. On the map, it appeared so close, the cursive script of _Temple of Shartan_ written off in a far corner of the Wilds. Her fingers grazed the text, words that instilled hope for the end of her journey, for the magic she sought. Soon, she and her family could reunite. She missed them dearly, her siblings especially. Who looked out for them, with her father in his weakened state and her mother by his side? The twins were scarcely fifteen, neither too skilled with housework or cooking.

But Carver always read the maps when they searched for a new home, on the run once more. And Bethany, cute and innocent in her stature, purchased supplies from villages along the way, none the wiser about her magical capabilities.

She could really use both of them right now, waves of homesickness washed over her in tides. Without her brother to read the map, she had only the simplest understanding of the drawing. She needed assistance, as bitter as it might be to admit.

And what of Sebastian? If she confessed her shortcoming five days into the Wilds, what reaction would he give? To speak nothing of the weakness it showed or the pride it hurt.

Though the longer it took her to reveal her lack of skill, the longer her father hurt back in Highever. She prayed her companion could be forgiving.

She padded over to where he cut into the meat with his dagger, blood coating his hands as he worked. Glancing over his shoulder at her approach, he quirked an eyebrow as he paused, hands still guts deep in the rabbit.

“Here.” She conjured a sphere of water in front of her, tempering it as she waited for him to stop. “I’ll dress the meat tonight, if you wouldn’t mind looking over the map. A second opinion might help after all.”

He moved his bloody hands into the bubble as she used the water to wash them clean before calling forth a quick breeze to dry them. “I thought you could handle it?”

She ignored his snark, knowing she deserved nothing more. “Maybe, but I would rather be safe than right.” She took his place in front of the rabbits, eyes shifting every few minutes to where he stood with a bemused expression as he read over the parchment.

He called her over as she laid out the tender meat over the fire. Applying the same treatment to her hands as she did his, she made her way over, taking hold of one end of the map as he pointed. “We’re here.” To her surprise, they weren’t as far from the mark as she assumed, only a day or two more to go before reaching their destination. “We could reach it by nightfall tomorrow if we hurry, but ruins tend to invite unsavory characters into them. It’d be best to enter during daylight hours.” He refolded the map before handing it over to her. “Not bad, Pidge. You’re not as horrible at map reading as you think you are.”

She mumbled gratitude as she moved back to her place in front of the fire, tending to the meat and letting go of the tension she’d built up over the map issue. Excitement simmered at the edges of her mind, so close to salvation and the end of this trek. Who knew, she might be home for supper in a fortnight's time, laughing about her adventures with her siblings on either side of her, her parents healthy as they sat across the table.

* * *

She found her steps quickened the next day, her spark of elation floating her toward the ruins. Sebastian almost needed to run to keep up with her, looking slightly winded when he finally convinced her to set up camp. She took control of the fire, her usual chore, as he went out hunting.

The mist came; Sebastian did not. Worry grew in her stomach like a weed, unwanted and fast building. An hour passed, then another. The fire died down twice before her magic reflamed the logs. She couldn’t leave, the fog too thick to find her way back in. The only thing she could do was wait for him to return.

Another hour, then a soft sound of shuffling broke up the pounding of her racing pulse in her ears. She jumped out of her bedroll, fire glowing under her hands as she stood by, uncertain who approached, enemy or companion.

Sebastian stumbled into the clearing, hands pressed into the dark patch of armor on his side. She darted over, arms encasing him as she helped move him toward his bedroll. His oaken skin adhered to hers, slick with sweat as it paled under the firelight.  She assisted in getting him sat and comfortable as she frosted her hands, laying her palm flat on his forehead as she moved his hands to assess the wound. He moaned as the cold made contact, his dark lashes fluttering as he struggled to remain alert.

“What happened?” She worked slow to remove the upper half of his armor, willing herself not to tremble. She didn’t know how to help him, didn’t know what she could offer. Bethany knew healing magic, her family always relied on the female twin for any wound care. Kalea never bothered to learn it herself, always focusing on the elements instead.

Sebastian would die for her foolishness.

“Boar,” he groaned, struggling to sit upright so she could remove his shirt. “The mother ... got defensive …”

“Stupid, why were you hunting boars?” Without the hindrance of his clothing, she could make out two deep puncture marks of the boar tusks. Blood poured unrestrained from the injury, wide rivers jutting down the muscles of his side. It looked bad, deadly even.

Only magic could save him now, magic she didn’t know.

She just needed the bleeding to _stop_. They carried bandages, she could apply them after.

“Hunting ... a fox … lead to her …”

“Stop talking, idiot. Save your breath.” She rubbed her hands together, creating a friction as she prayed.

_Dear Maker, grant me the power to save this man._

She laid her hands over his wounds, waiting for the tingling sensation that accompanied her magic. Nothing happened. Fat tears rained down the side of her face as she tried again, doing her best to recall any texts she read on healing spells. A green spark left her fingertips as she touched him this time, not enough to do anything but the simple reaction ignited hope.

Breathing out a “Thank the Maker,” she grinned through her tears as she tried again, drawing up on the energy source from where that spark originated. A small amount of green light flashed from her hands into him, the bleeding slowing as a result. Sebastian moaned under her hands; she didn’t know if he retained consciousness.

She went one more time, a short burst of light that halted the blood flow, but didn’t seal the wounds. But from there, she knew how to handle the situation, fingers heating up as she moved to cauterize the gouges. His brow furrowed from the brief moment of pain, but his eyes stayed closed, no smartass remarks passing from his mouth about her not-so-gentle touch. She left him to grab their packs, finding bandages to dress him and tucking him into her bedroll since was his soaked in his blood.

She should monitor his condition throughout the night, make sure his injuries didn’t get infected or he didn’t contract a blood fever. She moved closer to the fire, the loss of her blanket felt on a subconscious level as she shivered.

“You better be worth this,” she mumbled, eyes flashing to the bundle of blankets that made up Sebastian.

He didn’t move.

She sighed, eyes glazing over as she stared out into the mist past him. She was in for a long night.

* * *

She hunted when the mist cleared enough, her stomach growling from the missed meal the night before. She found Sebastian’s trail of blood, curiosity driving her to follow it. He never said he didn’t kill it, and she knew for certain meat stood at the end of the trail. Plus, she needed to cover his tracks to make sure no enemies used it to find them in his weakened state.

At the end, she found her prey, an arrow jabbed into its neck. She could almost picture the fight--Sebastian traveling too close to its burrow, it darting out and goring him, he firing an arrow to fend it off. She understood why it attacked, but she couldn’t shake the anger that swelled at the sight of the animal, her memory of the night before flooding back to her. It almost killed him.

He was fortunate that this passel roamed in a small numbers, and only encountered one of the three adults. She watched from her perch on a hill as they settled down into their nest with the piglets, waiting for her chance to attack. She only wanted the one, and she wouldn’t make the same stupid mistake he did.

First, she needed to separate it from the rest. She didn’t want retaliation, and she couldn’t bring herself to harm the piglets, as vicious as they might grow up to become.

A wall of fire sprang up from the ground, sending the boars into a frenzy. They squealed with fear, kicking their hooves as they started to stampede away from the flames. She directed the one with an arrow, fire curving in front of it to force it away from its pack. When it ran far enough, she surrounded it, caging it in as she switched tactics.

She brought large rock in the grips of her earth magic repeatedly upon the boar’s head, only stopping when it no longer kicked or cried out. The others in its passel were long gone, driven off by the fire. She didn’t know if they would return for their fallen comrade, but she didn’t intend to find out.

She dragged her prize back to camp then set to work cleaning it, but not before checking on Sebastian. His temperature remained the same, and she used the opportunity to change his dressings with fresh bandages.

A bright eye peeked at her from beneath his tousled hair when she finished, a small smirk on his lips. “So, I have to get hurt in order for you to undress me, aye, Pidge?” An unwanted hand crawled up her thigh, which she plucked off and set onto his chest.

“Maybe next time, I should let the Maker take you. Cretin.” The smile she gave relieved the rest of the tension she held since his return, their banter something she felt more than happy to hear. 

He fought to focus his vision as he swept their camp, no doubt trying to place himself. Did he remember coming back, or was that more a muscle memory, his survival instinct kicking in that returned him to her?

The boar laid off to the corner, ready for skinning. His eyes widened at the sight of it, a small amount of fear hid inside them. He started to struggle up onto his back, twisting his body to get away, but she pressed a hand against his chest. “It’s okay, Bas. I took care of it.” She didn't mean to call him that, to nickname him. Her mother always said that to give something a name implied intention to keep it, which is why her and her siblings weren't allowed to name the chickens they kept to lay eggs. And now, she named her companion as though they were friends, as though she didn't hide the very reason behind him getting hurt. Why else would a boar skewer him if he didn't travel with her? 

A small wave of relief washed over his features before he concealed it behind his sass. “No doubt because I weakened it for you.”

She rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet. “Obviously.” She pulled the boar over to where she could gut and talk, desperate for company now that he awoke. The silence and uncertainty throughout the night stirred something in her, some need to confess to him all the secrets she withheld. He deserved to know what he almost died for, what she hoped to find in the lost temple.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you about this journey.” She worked while she talked, knife sliding just underneath the neck. Her mouth watered at the thought of the feast they could have with this amount of meat, how full her belly would be later that day.

“Oh?” He shifted himself to get a view of her, wincing as he did. “Done with your secrets then, my power hungry pigeon?”

She nodded as she shirked off the fur, tossing it into a pile on the side of her. “The power, it’s not for me. My father, he’s ... not well.”

Sebastian watched her from the bedrolls, attentive as he listened. She kept waiting for him to interrupt, to question, or to irritate, but he stayed his tongue, for which she was grateful.

“He hasn’t been well for some time. We’ve tried alchemists, healers, physickers; nothing’s worked.” The handwork in the boar helped steady her voice, giving her something solid to keep her still. “We’re out of feasible options. So I came out here.” She cleared her throat; now for the hard part. “There’s a legend in the Chantry, a tale about something that can cure _anything_.”

“The Urn of Sacred Ashes,” Sebastian cut in. She glanced over to him, wanting to cipher any emotion off his features. Was he angry at this realization? Disappointed that they only chased a fairytale, nothing tangible? But if he felt anything from her words, he kept it to himself.

“The Urn,” she gave a curt nod. “Brother Genitivi in Denerim is the leading expert on it. I’m helping him by following the path his research set out for him. But it still might be ... it’s the only chance I have to save him.” She waited for him, some kind of reaction, him wanting to turn back. After all, he owed her nothing, not even for saving him. He wouldn’t need saving if not for her foolish mission, to help someone he didn’t know. “You probably think this is stupid, chasing after a myth. I wouldn’t blame you if you decide to leave.”

After a pregnant pause, he shook his head, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “And leave you by yourself? You can’t get rid of me that easily, my useless pigeon. Who would hunt? Or pick up your slack in a fight?” He swept his hair out of his face. “Aye, if it’s alright with you, Pidge, I think I’ll stay.”

“Who are you calling useless, you buffoon? Who got hurt last night? I’m a far superior hunter than you, that’s for damn sure.” But she returned his smile, grateful for his decision to stay. The woods suddenly didn’t feel so lonely.


	6. Act Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Come on, can’t be much further.”_

Kalea attempted another healing that night, making a much easier time of it than before. Sebastian’s question of “why didn’t you just do that to begin with” was left unanswered as he stretched the muscle there, jumping around to test it out. It ached, but nothing he couldn’t fight through enough for them to continue onto the temple the next morning.

She cleaned their bedrolls as she called forth water, rinsing the bloodstains out before hanging them over a branch to dry. He stayed quiet when he spotted the amount of blood he lost, or how her energy sagged as the day went on. She needed sleep, the amount she didn’t get the night before when she cared for him.

Once her bedroll dried, she curled up inside of it, belly full and warm by the fire as she dozed off.

The morning light woke her and they finished off the rest of the boar before heading out. Anticipation set in once more, anxious about what they might find at the temple. She felt well-rested for the first time in weeks, and well-fed too, a rarity even at home. Sebastian seemed to glow as he kept by her side, perhaps feeling the effects of her magic in his system.

Together, they would find the Urn. No more doubts held her back, Sebastian’s refusal to leave  boosted  her confidence. They would find the Urn and she could go back to Highever, happily ever after.

The elation in her daydream of returning successful to her family stopped short as they caught sight of the ruins. Webs draped over the dilapidated spirals, wiry white stands, strewn with dust and dead leaves, the detris of neglect. She suppressed a shudder, but Sebastian did not.

“Fucking spiders,” he muttered, unsheathing his bow as he glared at the Temple of Shartan. “You sure this is the right place?”

She couldn’t fight the impulse to tease him, though she shared his sentiment. “Bugs got you scared, oh great hero?”

His glare twisted to her as he scowled. “Don’t think I didn’t see the fear in thine own eyes, Pidge.”

“Yet, you don’t hear me griping about it.” The good thing about being a mage, if there could be such a thing, was the fact that spiderwebs tended to be  _extremely_ flammable, as did their counterparts. Control of wind helped as well, though using it around Sebastian weakened his own attacks.

They entered through the ruined archway, down the stairs into the basement section. The two stood at high alert, backs to one another as they kept an eye out for danger. The Urn was said to sit in the inner sanctum, her most loyal protecting Andraste once more in death.

A palpable tension filled the lower chambers, something dark and unholy. As they passed an opening into a room that housed a golden chest piece, she nudged Sebastian in the ribs, near shooting him up into the rafters. “Don’t you want to stop and collect your treasure? I did promise you some, after all.”

He shook his head, inching along the hallway. “I think I’ll do well without it. We’d do our best to grab the Urn and go.”

So, he sensed it too. They kept in step before coming to a crossroads, corridors on all sides. She pointed down the darkest hallway. “How much do you want to bet it’s that way?”

“Of course, it is,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “Pigeons first.”

“You know, you’re almost cute when you’re flustered like this,” she grinned as she drew fire into her hand, something to light their way.

“Almost,” he scoffed. “I think the word you’re searching for is always.”

A banshee scream echoed down the hallway, coming from behind her. She spun on her heels, flame at ready for the source of that sound, only to find Sebastian twisting in a web, near weeping in his hysterics. She chuckled at the sight. “You’re right, this whole damsel in distress act makes you very cute.”

“Get me out,” he growled, struggling for it to release him. “You can berate me later.”

A hissing sound came from behind her. She knew from the terror in his eyes what landed, a chill shooting up her spine. She flicked some of her fire onto the webbing above him to cut him out, then twirled, casting her flame. The spider, almost big enough for her to ride, screeched as the blaze took hold of one of its eight legs, shooting up to the rest of it as it curled into itself.

Something stuck to her back, and she twisted around, knocking into Sebastian as he readied an arrow. “Shit, fuck, holy shit,” he cursed under his breath, aiming at another large spider on his side of the hall. More trailed behind it, all looking rather angry with their glassy black eyes and quivering palps, their pissed off hisses sending a shiver up her spine.

“Bas, duck,” she yelled as she arched flame passed Sebastian. They hissed, reeling back onto four legs before scrambling up the walls. She tossed more fire at them while Sebastian fired arrows into their plump bodies. She didn’t want to get closer than she needed, the sight of their many eyes and dripping mouth-feelers enough to give her new nightmares.

An arm slipped around her waist, tugging her further into the hallway. “There’s too many,” he said as he started down the hall. “And more keep coming. We need to run.”

She hated bolting from a fight, but her inner voice agreed with him. She kept at his heels as they charged through the ruins, setting fire to everything behind her. When they passed an entryway with a door, she flung it shut behind them, moving some stone rubble to push up against it.

Chests heaving, they stopped for a momentary reprieve. “We’re going to have quite the time getting back out,” she said when her breath caught up to her.

“Maybe they’ll give up, find some other fresh meat.”

“If we’re only so lucky.” She pulled some loose webbing from his hair, setting it to flame and letting the ashes crumble to the stone. “Come on, can’t be much further.”

Alcoves opened into bigger rooms, each one adorned with more decoration than the last. Statues of Shartan lined the walls, made out of every material ever imagined, from wood to pure gold. Andraste alternated between his, each likeness more beautiful than the last. Sebastian paused at one made of marble, fingers skimming the base of her gown.

“Maker’s breath. Do you see this?”

“They’re gorgeous.” Her own hand skimmed along one of the golden statues, the detail in them almost life-like.

“Not that. Andraste ... her ears.” He pointed up to his own, then to each of the statues of Andraste, where her ears pointed in place of rounding. “Was she …?”

Kalea laughed at the irony; the Maker’s bride, an elf of all things. “I wonder if the Chantry buried this place themselves then.”

“This would cause a revolt throughout Thedas,” Sebastian agreed, turning his attention away from the statues to reside on her. “If it’s true.”

“Of course it’s true,” she spat, caressing the feet of the statue before turning in kind. “Why would the elvhen lie?”

“To suit their own needs.”

“Just like the Chantry does?” She snapped her fingers, rocks flying to her beckon to revolve in a circle. “Tell me, Bas, now that you know me, do you still think all mages are as bad as the Chantry would have you believe? Or are we people, like the rest of you?” She snapped again, the rocks clattering to the floor. “Yet, we don’t get the same opportunities as you regular humans. Instead, we’re thrown in that prison you people call a Circle simply because we  _exist_.” She bared her teeth at that last word, rage punctuating her statement.

He didn’t try to refute her statement, his eyes casting to the floor as he mulled over her words.

She motioned for him to follow. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go grab the Ashes.”

Crossing the threshold into the next room, they found themselves in a space the size of a small cavern. The ceiling sparkled with crystals as light from veilfire burned in lanterns leading to the center, a small podium centered above a dark pool of water. She darted ahead, using every ounce of strength to bring her to the center. They had to be there, they had to, they had--

As she rounded the corner to the stairs of the middle, her heart stopped cold. Only a book sat on top the podium, no urn in sight. “No …” She fell to her knees, knotting her hands in her hair. “No, no, no, no!” The last no turned into a scream as her eyes watered. “Brother Genitivi said, he said it would be here. He said if it existed, it would be here. Fuck!” She leaned her head against the cool stone as the water in the pool began to ripple.

The water began to rock back and forth, more violent in each turn, until it lashed over the edges, flooding onto the stone. Sebastian kneeled beside her in the pooling damp, resting a hand on her back. “Pidge, it’s okay. Pidge, listen to me, it’s okay.”

She didn’t respond, but the water began to quell. He started to rub short circles into her back as he repeated, “Pidge, listen to me, we can keep looking. Maybe there’s something here that can direct us where to go next.”

“Next? This was supposed to be it.”

“But next isn’t a dead end, aye? We’ll keep looking, Pidge. It’s all we can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian being scared of spiders is a headcanon you can pry from my cold, dead fingers.


	7. Act Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Nothing gross about what two people choose to do in the privacy of a tent, lass.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [GuileandGall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/guileandgall) for being a wonderful beta, especially given my lack of use of an I key. 
> 
> My tumblr mostly consists of drabbles and Sebastian-centered reblogs and pigeon memes, so life is great right now.

Kalea dropped her bags on the floor with a sigh of blessed relief, a dull thud sounding as her book-heavy pack hit the hardwood. Her heart leapt at the sight of a bed, sweet solace from sleeping on the ground for a night. She hung up her cloak before throwing herself onto the bed, a soft mumble of pleasure passing through her parted lips.

Sebastian would return eventually with tents and warm clothing for the next trek of their journey, into the Frostbacks to find the Shrine of Andraste, located somewhere in the Basin. The readable texts they discovered in the Temple of Shartan didn’t give an exact location, just a vague suggestion of that area as Andraste’s final resting place. But it revived a hope for her father, one she grasped onto with eager abandon.

She unbound her hair, raking through it as she wriggled to get comfortable atop the sheets. She spread herself out, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids as she sank into the pillow, the sound of life in the small village outside the window.  It lulled her into a peaceful, much needed sleep, thankfully dreamless.

When she awoke, the sun once streaming through the window shifted into darkness, a fire drawn that spilled light across the room. She picked out her companion’s outline as he sat in a large chair, reading over one of the books she brought from the temple. She hid her watch from him as her eyes lingered on his frame, the flames casting an ambient glow across the shine of his tousled amber hair.

She wished to stay in bed, holding onto the image of this softer, quiet side of him. For the first time since they met, she wondered who he was before, what cruelty lead to him out on the streets of Denerim, snatching purses and gambling his profit away. Yet he could read, something uncommon for someone from the streets. And he could fight, beautifully at that.

He appeared at ease in that chair with a book in his palms, slow in his intent as his thumbs brushed the corners of the pages. He remained an enigma, at home by the hearth or on the battlefield, his surroundings becoming yet another part of him, these ever-changing sides that made up Sebastian.

He closed the book; she shut her eyes, feigning a rest that his voice cut through. “I know you’re awake, lass.”

She cursed in silence as she stretched, switching to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He shrugged, moving the book onto a nearby table. “You've been pushing yourself since before the temple. I wanted to look through the texts again anyway, see if I couldn't glean more out of them about where to head.”

“You get everything we need?”

“Ah, well ... about that.” He dragged out the new cloak she requested from a bag at this feet, tossing it her way.

She caught it midair, then laid it on the bed to marvel at the craftsmanship, the plush quality of the midnight blue dyed fur with white trimmings. She put it on, twirling before him in it, admiring the cut and fit. “It's lovely.” She used to dream of owning beautiful clothes, a chance to wear something such as this always nonexistent with her family's financial state. She ruffled the collar against her neck, reveling in the the feel of the supple fur against her skin.

Sebastian cleared his throat, a conflicted look in his eyes rippling his features. “Aye, it is. But I wasn’t able to procure everything on the list.”

She stopped mid-spin, cheeks heated as she realized whom she danced before. “What’s missing?”

“They, ah ... I could only find one tent.”

The mountains were a bitter cold, freezing during the night. Only one tent, that implied … her body inflamed at the realization. Sharing a room was one thing when a couch and a bed ornamented it, but a small tent? “Did you try other shops? Maybe one of the-”

“Aye, and nothing. This is the last town before we hit the mountains. We can go days out of our way to try and get another one, or we can keep trekking. The decision’s yours, lass.”

She pursed her lips as she mused over the possibilities. They would freeze without the tent, but adding time onto her search for the ashes stole time away from her father.The situation was far from ideal, but she needed every second granted to her.

She sighed, raking her fingers through her messy bedhead. “If we do this, IF, you’ll behave yourself? No trying to touch me in my sleep?”

He scoffed, something she could easily mistake for hurt flashing across his features. “Come on, Pidge. You really think I would do that?”

“Promise me then.”

“Aye, I promise. Never while you’re asleep, only awake.” He winked as he headed toward the dining table, a banquet of food spread out across the top.

Her mouth watered at the sight of the carrots, potatoes, apples. A substance other than the paltry meat they made in the woods, her stomach grumbled at the change in diet. She shrugged off her new cloak, making sure to hang it up before joining him on the opposite bench, forgetting to ask how he managed to pay for all this. 

* * *

 

She woke early the next morning, a second restful sleep since they arrived to the village. She thanked the Maker for her luck as she slid out of bed, tiptoeing across the cold floor to grab herself leftover apple pie for breakfast, careful not to wake the slumbering Sebastian on the couch. The sun caught the back of his head as it poured through the window, his amber hair burning in dawn’s light.

A peek of his bare oaken skin flashed from under the blanket as he shifted, burrowing himself further into the couch cushions, most likely to block out the streaming light. She flustered, turning her attention away from him to her slice of pie, sweet perfection on her tongue. Why did she look over at him anyway? She should enjoy her temporary break from his running commentary, a private moment between her and the quiet town outside the window.

The stillness provided her a chance to write her family a letter, something she put off for too long. They deserved to know how she fared, where she was in her quest. She knew they worried back in Highever, just as she for them. She slipped off the windowsill to ruffle through her pack, digging out parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. Taking a seat at the desk the room provided, she set aside her pie to begin.

 _“To my lovely family.”_ She paused, reflecting on what to say next. Should she include mention of Sebastian, of how they met? No, Bethany and her mother would both assume he might be more than he was and there was no way she would ever feel anything for him, _no way_. Then should she tell them of the temple, the false lead it created and the real one they chased now? No, that could be too much for them, just as it almost was for her.

She chewed her lip as she pondered what her letter should say. She needed to put their minds at ease, not stir up more uncertainty that her mission created. Especially since her mother technically didn't give her permission to leave.

She dipped her quill and began to write.

_“I miss you all dearly, but my quest goes well. I’m headed to the Frostback Basin, where the Ashes are said to reside. Soon, I’ll have them, and soon, I’ll make my way home to you. It’s been difficult to sleep without Beth’s snoring, and the days have passed by in large, dull increments without Carver’s useless prattling. But worry not, because this freedom away from your sides only increases my love for you and my desire to return. I miss Mother’s vegetable stew, and my heart burns to know how Father fares, if he’s healing on his own.”_

Did she have anything else to add, anything else she wished to tell them? After a minute of pondering, she added a quick, “ _I’m sorry I left, but I still believe it was the right choice. Have hope for me, as I do for Father._ ” She signed off on the letter and used the wax seal she found in the desk to close the envelope.

She left the letter on the desk as she traveled back to her original seat, finishing off her slice plus another as she waited for her companion to wake.

* * *

 

She stopped by a stall on the way out of town, slipping the messenger a few extra coins to get her letter there faster. Sebastian shot her a questioning look as the messenger mounted a horse. “What’s that?”

“An update for my family.”

They began their trek out of town, the mountainside looming white ahead. She shivered underneath the warm cloak Sebastian procured, never mentally prepared for the cold to curse her skin. And then their plan of sharing a tent that night … did he really try to get them another or was this part of some underhanded plan?

“You write to them?” Sebastian’s question detoured her line of thought about his intentions, yanking her back into the present of the mountain path.

She nodded, shoving her hands into the pockets of her cloak. “This is my first time since I left. I thought they might want to know I’m alive and not in the Circle against my will.” She paused. “What about your family? Assuming you weren’t raised by mabari.”

Sebastian’s eyes glazed over as he drifted back into nostalgia, his voice distant. “Aye, they exist.”

“Do you miss them?”

He shook his head. “We’re not close. My parents, they, ah, they sent me away, but I ran.”

“To Ferelden.” When he tossed her a questioning look, she added, “Don’t be so surprised. Your accent gives you away as an outsider.”

He chuckled. “And here I was, trying to blend in.”

She grinned, tucking some of her hair behind her ears. “Trying and failing, I’m afraid.” She nudged her elbow into his ribs. “Is this where I finally learn of your sordid past?”

His grin turned sour as he ran a hand through his hair. “‘Fraid not, Pidge. But if you have a burning question on your mind, ask it.”

She shrugged as she thought up what she might ask him. Where he hailed seemed too obvious a question, and she didn’t want to get too personal by asking him where his family tried to send him. “How about … siblings? Do you have any?”

His brow furrowed as he reflected on the question. When he didn’t immediately answer, she interjected her own response. “I’m the oldest of three. Bethany and Carver, they’re fifteen. Completely useless lot, but utterly lovable.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he glanced over to where she kept pace beside him. “You think everyone’s useless.”

“Compared to me.” Her smile grew as she reflected on the twins’ cheery faces, Carver’s dirty brown hair that matched their mother’s, Bethany’s mischievous nature that matched her father’s and her own. “And these two, Bethany’s a spit-fire and Carver’s crass as they come.”

He nudged her back. “Kind of like you.”

She startled, eyes catching his as disbelief crossed her features. “Yeah, I guess so. I never considered that.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, mirroring his same conflicted emotion from the inn. “I have two older brothers, you were asking. Corbinian and Stuart.”

“Ah, the youngest. I should’ve recognized it, you do have that bratty quality about you.” She stuck her tongue out as she darted ahead, careful to avoid his gentle swatting of her shoulder.

“What’s your excuse then?”

“I’m entitled, not a brat. Get it right.” She smirked as she called forth a fireball to bat between her hands.

He stared after the ball for a few minutes, lips pursed. “What if … what if you used your fire the next time I shot one of my arrows?

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Nuh-uh. You don't get to change the subject that easily.”

“It's not a horrible idea, collaborating our attacks.”

She nodded. “But we're talking about your family, not attacks.” She extinguished the fire in her hand. “So, what are they like, your brothers?”

He groaned, rubbing his temples as though simply talking about his family caused an immediate headache. “Annoying. Kiss asses. Everything I’m not.”

“So handsome, charming, and nice?” She grinned as he shot her an irate look.

“Righteous jerks.”

“Decent.”

“Pricks.”

“Generous.”

He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. “You wanted to know about them.”

“Why don’t you like them? Any reason?”

A livid expression flickered in his eyes before being doused with exasperation. She pretended not to notice, though his reaction left her curious. “Because I’m not them.”

She kicked a rock his way. “Well, that’s dumb.”

“What do you know about it,” he barked, obviously a sore spot for him.

“You only like those like you?” She shook her head, some of her dark hair falling into her face. “They’re family. You only get one.”

“Easy for you to say, you like yours.”  

“We have our problems, just like any other family.” Her eyes cast to the ground as she recounted the fight with her mother as she left, her mother’s reluctance to let her go, her siblings insistence upon coming along.

“Aye, but your parents wanted you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true. My mother’s pregnancy was unplanned, but they made due. And yes, they love me now, but that doesn’t mean they always did.” She kicked another rock ahead, using her magic to bring it back to kick again, something to do as she walked. “Accidents happen. You think my parents wanted to bring more mages into the world?”

“The twins, they’re…?”

“My sister is. Carver, I think he secretly resents us for it, though he’d never admit it. He and Mother, they could have normal lives if they didn’t have the rest of us.” She rolled her eyes, shrugging again. “But you know, that’s something I wonder on occasion. I can’t really speak for them.” When she spotted the concern on his face, she forced a smile as she sought for a change of subject. “You’re right, let’s not talk about family. So what did you have in mind for these attacks? Just igniting your arrows or something else entirely?”

A slow smile spread over his lips; she didn’t miss the relief hidden in his gaze.

* * *

“You Fereldans, such thin blood,” Sebastian teased as he pitched their tent for the night.

Kalea scowled as she held her hands out to the bonfire, standing dangerously close to the flame as she shivered. She cleared the scant amount of frost coating the ground before they set up camp, and she wasted no time getting the fire started, leaving her companion to do everything else while she huddled around it.

“You’re, what? A Marcher?” She waited for his agreement of her assessment before continuing. “At least we’re one country.”

He chuckled, staking the last corner of the tent. “That’s the best you came up with? That we’re city-states?”

She shrugged as another shiver rolled down her spine. “I got nothing. I’m afraid I’m not that knowledgeable of the other side of the pond. I don’t even know the cities over there.”

“Well, Kirkwall’s a port city.”

She nodded. “My mother’s from there, so I know that one. But honestly, I don’t need to learn about someplace I have no desire to visit.”

“Suit yourself.”

She watched him crawl inside the tent, no doubt setting up his things. “Make sure you leave room for me,” she called, refusing to move from her claimed spot. How did she plan to survive the rest of the hike if a slight temperature drop left her shivering so hard she ached? Her father always compared her to a flower, wilting in the winter as the northern winds nipped.

 _Not used to_ , she corrected. He would again once she returned with the ashes. Her father was a fighter, he would make it until then.

Sebastian poked his head out of the flaps, a grin on his face. “Why, when you’re just going to stand there all night?”

She rolled her eyes as another gust tightened her grip on her elbows. “I’ll need to sleep at some point.”

“I’m sure I can find a way to warm you up inside.”

She created water in her palm before flicking it in his direction, his nose scrunching as it made contact with his cheek. She smiled with triumph as she readjusted herself, flipping to warm the front of her. “Don’t be gross.”

Arms wove around her waist as he lowered his voice to a near whisper in her ear, “Nothing gross about what two people choose to do in the privacy of a tent, lass.” She stilled underneath his hold, unsure of how to react. Her heart pounding in her chest threatened to drown him out, a warm feeling pooling in her stomach as she hesitated. But in her pause, he added, “Unless you add in a goat. But that’s not on me to judge.”

She wrestled out of his hold, side-stepping out of his reach as her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I think I’ll be sleeping out here after all.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat. “You’ll freeze.”

She shook her head, dragging the hood of her cloak up around her face. “It’s better than sharing space with a tallowcatch like you.”

He mimed putting his hands over his heart like he’d been shot, staggering with a wicked grin on his face. “You wound me, Pidge.”

“You wound yourself, Bas.” She rolled her eyes, hiding her growing smile behind her fist with a faked cough.

* * *

Another nightmare left her screaming as she threw herself from sleep. Hands rubbed her back as a soft accent called to her through her terror, “Pidge, it’s okay, it’s just a dream.” The hands turned her over, drawing her into Sebastian’s warmth. “I got you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from his own sleep. “You’re okay, it’s just a bad dream.” His hands smoothed down her hair as his cheek rested against her temple.

She held onto him as she struggled to regain her sense of surrounding, clearing the demon’s torture from her memory as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his sharp scent of resin, leather, and incense as he worked to calm her down.

He didn’t let go of her, and she clung to him throughout the rest of the night, the warmth he radiated granting her sleep an air of safety.


	8. Act Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That you do, young shaman, but you bring with you a dark spirit. The Gods are reluctant to trust you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta
> 
>  
> 
> Um, all l can say about this chapter is that l'm sorry? And also this is one of my favorite chapters. 
> 
> At this point, this fic is a mash-up of all the games. Inquisition helped with a lot of this chapter.

“Now what?” Sebastian shared in Kalea’s studying of the Basin below their mountaintop perch, eyes connecting paths and spying dwellings below. Her heart jumped at the sight of water, a beautiful thing to see after weeks in the mountains. Finally, a real bath, one where she didn’t need to melt the snow and heat the water for a quick dumping over her goose pimpled flesh.

“You read the same thing I did. The texts weren’t exactly clear where the shrine might be.” She pointed to one of the huts near the water. “Think they might know?”

“What makes you think they’re friendly?” He quirked an eyebrow as he glanced her way.

“Friendly or not, we don’t have a lot of choices, do we?” The sight of  green grass sparked an energy in her that travel in the rocky, snowy terrain drained from her. Excitement buzzed beneath her skin at the prospect of escaping the cold. Not that she minded sharing a tent, but it would also be nice to sleep under the stars once more, without worrying about how close the two laid next to one another or how she always found herself in his arms by sun’s rise.

Down below, they could go back to their separate mornings, one where she didn’t watch his face when she woke before him, thinking about what it might be like to kiss him, or where he didn’t crack jokes about her bed head while sporting a fresh cowlick she pretended not to notice so he wouldn’t fix it. She needed a break from this routine they developed, the chance to put some distance between them.

* * *

An arrow shot in the ground at Kalea’s feet as the two approached the fishing huts. A woman decorated in furs and face paint with a bow and arrow stood on the roof of the closest one, her next arrow drawn and aimed at Kalea. “State your business, strangers,” she called.

Sebastian’s fingers graced the tip of his bow on his back, but Kalea motioned for him to stay his hand. “We’re travelers,” she called. “On a quest, only wishing to talk.”

The woman didn’t lower her bow. “A quest for what? Here to steal from the Avvar?”

That answered Kalea’s question over what type of people residing in the area. She knew very little of their people, only that they existed and that Andraste’s husband was one of them. “The Urn of Sacred Ashes.”

“The Urn of what?”

Sebastian, despite Kalea’s warning, drug out his bow and fired off a shot. The woman rolled out of the way of his arrow and shot one of her own, directed at Kalea.

“ENOUGH,” Kalea yelled, casting a whirlwind to render their arrows useless. “I said we came to talk, and I meant it!” She shot a glare at her overly eager archer to her right.

“She shot first,” he growled.

“A warning shot,” she returned with her own menace before bowing to the shaken woman in front of them. “My apologies. My companion can get a little … excited at times.”

The woman pointed to Kalea, hand trembling. “A shaman!”

“A what now?” Sebastian glanced between the two women with confusion.

“You must meet my Thane. She will have questions for you, shaman from the outside.” The woman jumped off the roof, landing on her feet and hurrying over to take Kalea’s hand. “I’ve never met a barbarian shaman before. What’s it like out there, on the other side of the mountain?”

Sebastian shot her a questioning look, to which Kalea could only shrug. She let the woman drag her across the valley and up a mountainside path, Sebastian following along with his bow returned to his back. He scrutinized their venture with a sharp eye while Kalea allowed herself to wonder at the sights around them. She answered the woman’s inquisitive questions to the best of her ability as the woman marveled at her.

“You’re really pretty!” The Avvar woman said.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, for a pigeon,” he mumbled under his breath.

Kalea shot him a sharp glare as she thanked the woman.

The woman lead them into a village cut into the side of a tall mountain, towering over the valley below, wooden huts built along the crop of the mountain. Kalea gasped at the scenery, the beauty of the world below them. The Avvar people stopped to stare at the outsiders intruding in their home, most likely a sacred space to them. Kalea met their eyes with an equal wonder while Sebastian’s expression bordered on mild curiosity, his fists shoved into his pockets as his aquamarine eyes swept over everything once before returning to the back of Kalea’s head.

The woman brought them into a cave where another hooded woman sat on a throne made of furs. “What have you brought here, Ninne? Who are these outsiders?”

Ninne bowed, releasing Kalea’s hand so it fell back to the mage’s side. “A shaman, my Thane. She seeks our knowledge.”

The Thane stroked her chin as she contemplated Kalea’s unspoken request. “You wish to meet with the augur?”

Sebastian opened his mouth, but she elbowed him hard in the ribs, a grunt passing through his lips as he gripped his side in exaggerated pain. Kalea stepped forward, offering a bow of her own. “I come seeking information about the Urn of Sacred Ashes, or the Shrine of Andraste.”

The Thane shook her head. “You’ll find neither of those things here, shaman. We do not worship the same Gods as you, and this basin is owned by the Avvars.”

She nodded, hiding back her disappointment at the news. “I understand. Still, if you may, I would like to stay and learn from your people, see why my quest led me here.”

The Thane’s gaze shifted to Sebastian. “And what of him? Does he too wish to learn, or is it more trouble he seeks?”

Kalea shot a glance his way, wondering how the Thane could so easily pick up on Sebastian’s personality. “I assure you, he is only here to assist me in my quest. Should he offend anyone, I will personally see to his punishment.”

Sebastian kept silent, some sense in his brain, though his displeasure emanated from him in waves. Kalea knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it when they were alone again.

The Thane considered her bargain, a breath of quiet falling between the four. But then the Thane stood, holding her arm out across her chest. “We do not typically allow outsiders into our midst, but we honor our shamans, as well as those from outside our tribe. You may stay here as an honored guest, as may your companion.”

Kalea bowed again. “Thank you, Thane. We’ll do our best not to overstay our welcome.”

The Thane smiled at that. “Come, we will find beds for you. Unless you only require one …?”

Kalea’s cheeks reddened at the implication as she prayed to the Maker that Sebastian didn’t choose that moment to look her way. “No, two are necessary.”

The Thane chuckled, most likely at the expense of her guest. “Ah, I see. Then let me formally welcome you, honored shaman, to Stone-Bear Hold.”

* * *

 

Life at the hold ignited Kalea’s soul. She took to the pace of this place with ease, helping out with chores, listening to the skald sing the old Avvar tales. She sat with Gyda as the older woman prepared their dead, learning the funerary rites and how the Lady of the Skies sends her birds to carry souls back to her side.

She saw Sebastian in passing, him making it his mission to impress the locals with his archery skills. The Avvars crowded around him, in awe of his abilities, no doubt inflating his already enormous ego. He winked whenever he caught her eye, to which she rolled her own, a trace of a smile playing at her lips. She enjoyed their time together, and a small part of her missed him in the dark of her hut at night, but the break came as a welcome relief.

But she did pick up a new companion, it seemed. One of the younger Avvar, Helsdim, made it his responsibility to be her personal guide to the Hold. She pegged him for no more than 18, and if she didn’t follow him to the huts, he kept at her tail, producing doe-eyes every time she turned his way.

Sebastian scoffed one of the few times she managed to shake her shadow, her and Sebastian alone in her hut. “I think that one likes you.”

She rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her smile. “What can I say? I’m pretty and powerful. Why wouldn’t he like me?”

“Do I hear wedding bells in your future?”

She wrinkled her nose, giving him a playful shove. “Is that jealousy in your voice? Upset that you’ve got a little competition?”

He laughed, returning her playful shove. “Competition for what? Your favor?”

“No need to fight over me, Bas,” she grinned.

“Who’s fighting? He can just have you.”

She sneered as she rose from her seat. “Nice to see how much you care. Maybe I’ll take him with me when I leave. He’s much less annoying.”

Sebastian grabbed her arm, pulling her in between his legs as he hugged her waist. “You’d miss me,” he crooned, head resting on her stomach. Her pulse quickened in her veins as she froze against him, unsure of how to move. How could she reply with her heart in her throat, her voice unsteady with his face pressed into her shirt?

After a few minutes of her standing still as the dead, he sighed and released her, leaning back. “Deny it if you want, Pidge, but you know you would.”

She ran her hand through her hair as she fought back her emotions to recount the reason for his visit. “Have you learned anything? Any idea where we should go next?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not yet, but they’re starting to trust me.”

“Cause of your oh-so impressive bow skills?” She rolled her eyes again as she retook her seat. “I’m speaking with the augur tomorrow. From there, we can formulate a plan.”

“Aye, sounds good.” After a moment of silence passed between them, he slid his hand over hers on her knee and gave a short squeeze. “How have you been sleeping, Pidge?”

She shrugged, avoiding eye contact, the answer obvious and unsaid between them.

* * *

 

She knocked on the door to the augur’s hut before letting herself in. The room glowed an eerie blue as a masked mage stood in a circle of veilfire candles. “Come in, Shaman. The Gods spoke of your coming.”

She bit her tongue at the mention of Gods, not wanting to risk an insult by asking too many questions. She nodded as she took a seat on the floor, attention rapt on the augur. “I seek answers.”

“That you do, young shaman, but you bring with you a dark spirit. The Gods are reluctant to trust you.”

A dark spirit? Did he mean Sebastian? “He’s harmless, a bit rough around the edges, but a  good person overall.”

The augur listened, but not to her. Then he nodded, eyes returning to her face. “Not the boy, though darkness does indeed cloud his path, as it does yours. But the spirit of despair, the Gods see what it has done to you, that it hangs onto your dreams as it weakens you.”

Her ears perked up at that. If the augur communed with Gods or spirits, could he really help her with that, let her get a real night’s sleep? “Do your Gods say how to stop it?”

His eyes glazed over again as he cocked his head to the side, listening to some unknown entity. Then same as before, he turned back to her with his vision cleared. “I will make you a pendant that will act as a ward. The Gods will banish him from here, but you will be defenseless once you leave the Hold.”

She could weep with joy, the news such a vast relief. “Thank you, oh thank you.”

He called forward a gust of veilfire as he took a seat across from her. “But this was not the answer you seek. What you seek, the Gods say you will not find here.”

“Can they give me some kind of direction to go in? Any little bit helps.”

“Andraste was a traitor to the Avvar Gods. And Maferath was a traitor to the Avvar people, yet his second-in-command let the Lady take him.” The augur paused, checking to assure that she followed his words. “Havard stole Maferath’s body from his sons to give proper rites. He went with Maferath’s augur, who froze the body until they could find a place the sons would not disturb and the Lady could not ignore.”

She leaned forward, listening intently to the tale that fell from the augur’s lips.

“The sons chased them a great distance, but as the two approached what your kind call the Storm Coast, a roar from a high dragon rang out, the sons fled, abandoning their pursuit. On the highest cliff, the augur unfroze Maferath’s body and Havard performed the rites. But instead of birds, a dragon swooped down and consumed Maferath in entirety.”

Kalea waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, his story at an end, she asked, “And Andraste’s ashes?”

“The Gods say that where Maferath was offered, his wife rests beneath, Andraste’s wrath at her husband’s betrayal taking the form of the dragon that ate him.”

She thanked him and stood. “Your Gods, the spirits, you use them to teach your apprentices? I’ve heard talk in the village, and I-”

The augur held up his hand, cutting off her sentence. “You wish to learn. And under normal circumstances I would teach you, but the Gods have forbid it in this matter.”

She frowned, pursing her lips. “Did they give a reason why?”

“They say you will house much anger and hurt in the near future. I can give no other reasoning than this.”

She thanked him again before departing the hut, mind buzzing as she tried to place why the spirits might say that. _Hurt? Anger?_ That didn’t bode well for her or her father.

As Sebastian caught her eye, shirtless and half up the cliffside climbing course, a wide grin on his face, she let the problem melt away into the back of her thoughts as a smile returned to her lips.

* * *

 

They intended to leave the morning after the feast. Thane Sun-Hair granted them gifts of the hold, including another tent as well as some food and warmer clothes. The augur gifted her a pendant for her travels to ward away the despair demon. She didn’t recognize the symbols inside, but she trusted him as she looped it around her neck. Sebastian shot her a questioning look but continued eating his fish.

Thane Sun-Hair clapped her hands as she rose to her feet, the table falling silent. She dragged Kalea to stand with her as the thane dipped her finger into some of their war paint. “Tomorrow,” she called. “We send our guests back to their journey.” Yells sounded around the table as the Avvar banged their mugs against the wood. Sebastian joined in, ever the crowd pleaser.

Thane Sun-Hair raised her hands again, a quiet falling over the Hold. “But tonight, we feast, we dine, and we bid farewell to our sister and brother.” She ran her painted thumb under Kalea’s eye, over the bridge of her nose to just beneath the other eye. “For protection,” she whispered when she saw the question on Kalea’s lips. “And to remember your time here, young shaman.”

The thane moved to Sebastian, who rose to receive his own mark, a line running from his forehead, over his left eye and down his cheek. Kalea wondered if her own mark resembled blood as much as his.

Kalea and Sebastian took their seats once more at the head of the table as the night continued on, Helsdim trying his best to captivate Kalea from the far side of the table. In time, a fire started outside the cave, music playing as the Avvar began to dance around the flames. Kalea watched with envy as she drank her ale, wishing, not for the first time, that she could dance.

Carver equated her dancing to that of a wild boar’s charge. Now that she’d seen that charge in person, she couldn’t disagree, more likely to lead the dance with her head than her feet.

When Sebastian left to refill their cups, Helsdim gained the courage to approach, hand outstretched in her direction. “May I have this dance, shaman?”

She looked around, praying for Sebastian’s return to save her from what would surely be a disaster, but a group of women surrounded him by the keg. She huffed, a little annoyed that it kept him from his errand and left her with no excuses. She slipped her hand into Helsdim’s sweaty palm, allowing him lead her out to where others pranced around the fire.

The young Avvar tried to rock her from side to side, but she stepped on his feet, muttering apologies as she attempted control of her limbs. When he spun her, she almost fell into the fire itself, twirling too fast and missing a step, falling against his chest. The poor man tried again, both of them staring down at their feet as they took deliberate steps somewhat in rhythm with the music.

Raucous laughter filled her ears as a tap landed on Helsdim’s shoulder. “The lass is quite solid with her dancing. Mind if I cut in, show her how it’s done?”

Helsdim grumbled as he let go of Kalea, a new arm snaking around her waist as Sebastian’s hand held hers in the air. “I couldn’t bear to watch that atrocity any longer.”

She scowled. “If you had just returned with the ale, I wouldn’t have had to agree to it. Now let me go, I want to drink my embarrassment away.”

He tsked, shaking his head as he moved them along with the song. “You almost sound jealous.”

“I’m mortified is what I am. And we have a long day of travel ahead.”

“Close your eyes.”

She shook her head. “No way. I think I’ve done enough damage here on my own, thank you.”

“Close your eyes,” he repeated, no longer asking.

With reluctance, she shut them, unsure what would happen. When Sebastian spoke again, his lips were right next to her ear. “Now, stop trying to dance and just listen.” He hummed along to the upbeat music, a slight swaying starting in their hips.

“This is dumb,” she mumbled.

“Keep them closed.” He picked up the pace of their swaying, adding in a few steps here and there. When he twirled her, she went right back into his arms, no missteps or hurt feet.

She opened her eyes to find him grinning at her. “See, not so bad, Pidge. It’s all about the right dance partner.” He lead her around the fire in big, swooping steps, twirling her with every chance as the music picked up.

“And how do you know how to dance? Or is this another mystery?”

He winked as he dipped her low, her hair brushed the ground as he swept her body through the air. The action left her feeling a bit breathless as adrenaline kicked into her veins. They danced faster, feet stomping on the dirt, the firelight twinkling in his eyes, him leading them in the circle around the fire with the other dancers.

As the next song started, their movement slowed, the cacophony of noise around them fading into the background. She recognized something in his stare, a familiar well of emotion that pooled fire into her stomach as his gaze flickered to her lips and back again; she wet them, the air suddenly dry. His hand slipped from the curve of her waist to the small of her back as he leaned forward, his hair meshing with hers as he rested his forehead against hers.

The steady thrum of her heart erased all other noise, so well known by that point, her pulse always quickening with him around. She wanted this, _oh sweet Maker_ , she didn’t know how much she yearned for this until his mouth captured hers, his hands keeping her body pressed against him. She hooked her arms around his neck, bringing him closer, her lips blossoming under the gentle prodding of his tongue as he devoured her there before the Avvar.

 _Oh shit, the Avvar_. She reeled back, a different kind of mortification flooding her features as many pairs of eyes witnessed her first kiss. She looked to Sebastian, standing so beautiful and confused there in front of the bonfire, before shooting off toward her hut, running as fast as her strength allowed, cheeks flaming.

She expected him to follow her, maybe for even just the question of “What in the Maker’s name was that?” but he stayed away, perhaps put off by her reaction. It left her just as much confused, the question of why she kissed him resonating with the fact that she knew damn well why.

As the feast died down, the bonfire extinguished hours later, she slipped out into the brisk night, her feet carrying her to him. She combed her fingers through her hair, preparing herself for what she wanted to say. She wished to apologize for her reaction, and maybe kiss him some more, see where it led. She hated being a virgin, and it wasn’t as if Sebastian looked bad. There were worse people to lose virginities too. Maybe that’s all that existed between them, this palpable sexual tension that could easily go away with one indecent act.

She stopped outside his hut door, practicing her breathing exercises to steel her nerves. She could do this, she could ask this of him.

In her bravado, she pushed the door open without knocking, starting in with, “Bas, I…”

Her words died down in her throat as she took in the sight before her, soft moans filtering through her raging eardrums.

It took a few seconds for her to register what she was looking at, the scene not quite making sense to her as she stared with horror at the bodies writhing around in the middle of the floor. In her fog, she searched for him, praying that maybe he wasn’t a part of this. But the person on the floor who she couldn’t make out, she recognized that auburn tint to his hair as some strange woman rode his tongue while another rode a different part of him. A man’s hips slammed into Sebastian while making out with the woman who topped Sebastian’s lower half. She saw at least two other people in the mix of body parts and sexual organs, but she slammed the door before she could figure out their positions. Confusion and embarrassment clouded her thoughts. _What did she just witness?_

She ran back to her hut, a mess of sobs escaping her chest as the wind hit her face. Why was she this upset? She knew what kind of man Sebastian was when she hired him, when she went to him. As she threw herself onto her bed, burying her face into the pillow as her cries increased, she had to wonder, did she have feelings for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> l found that l love writing lore, about it or twisting it. Ask me your questions if you have them. 
> 
> Also, the blood swipe is never explained in DA2 and that drives me up a wall, so there, l created a reason.


	9. Act Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You ruin everything nice around you like some kind of bad impulse.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my terrific beta, [GuileandGall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/guileandgall)
> 
>  
> 
> [Short drabble between chapter 7 & 8](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/169347088177/snow-perfect-100-prompt-for-the-dragon-age)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm still working out Chapter 9 but thank you to everyone who has supported this and is tuning in! Maker, I love these two trainwrecks.

Kalea stomped ahead on the path, wind whipping at her hair beneath her hood. Day twelve of their return trip over the Frostbacks, and the tension between her and Sebastian grew so thick that she could hardly catch her breath around him. She hated it, hated that she slipped into feeling something for him so easily when he remained aloof, unattached, his usual annoying self with a slight glow to his face, no doubt from the gratuitous amount of sex he had while the Avvar housed them.

The Avvar face paint didn’t protect from getting her heart broken, but she wore it anyway with the war paint gifted to her. Maybe it would hurt worse if she left it off, a chance she didn’t wish to take.

She wanted to shake him so hard that his head popped off his body. Instead, she used her magic to ice shut his tent flaps every morning, his struggle to get outside her only solace during the day. He could still leave, turn around and go back to the Avvar that sent him off with such a warm welcome. Her mind flashed with a reminder of the woman rocking her hips over his face, Kalea’s face and neck scorching as she huddled further into her cloak.

He didn’t have to stick around, and the fear of him leaving when she had become so reliant on him scared her more than anything. How did she let herself grow so attached? Even worse, why did she let him kiss her? Her chest ached at the memory of it, the starvation in their mouths, Sebastian’s warm tongue sliding between her parted lips. She ducked back into her collar, flustered anew.

She daydreamed about telling him off, what she might say. How she could explain her rage without explaining the why of it? She fell short in those imagined arguments, struggling to come up with the reason for why it mattered to her what he did inside that hut, why she was there in the first place.

The worst of it, she decided, was that she thought, really thought, he might like her back, that maybe he came to care for her in the same way she did for him, and to be so sorely disappointed to discover how untrue that was.

She kept her eyes ahead on the road as Sebastian trailed behind her, neither speaking as they covered ground. Soon, they would reach the inn, and this time, she didn’t mind shelling out the money for two rooms. She needed time alone to recuperate, to strategize. She couldn’t continue on like this with him forever, but she also didn’t know if she had it in her to forgive him.

Unlucky for her, he reached the end of his silence. “So are you going to explain the reason you’ve been so frosty lately or is this an everyday thing now?”

Her steps didn’t falter as she kept marching, the only acknowledgement of his word a slight clenching of her fists as the wind kicked up.

“Real mature, Pidge. Go ahead, ignore me.” He stopped walking, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared daggers into her back. “I’m not budging until we talk about this.”

“Then die from the cold.” She trudged ahead, trying her damnedest to resist glancing back.

Footsteps hurried behind her as he darted ahead, grabbing her shoulders to force her to stop. She scowled, frost encroaching at his fingers as he snapped back, shaking them to try and restore blood flow.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she growled, the wind steadily whipping around them now.

Did she imagine it, or did a flicker of guilt cross his face as he shoved his hands inside the pockets of his cloak? Keeping a respectable distance from her while still blocking her way, he said, “Was it really so bad?”

She struggled to come up with a response, something that didn’t clue him into her feelings. The only words she could find in herself to say were, “You’re disgusting.”

His eyes widened in shock, and she used the chance to brush past him, continuing forward in their hike over the mountains. And the, chuckling. A burst of laughter came from behind her, causing her temper to flare more. The wind blew back their hoods, the cold stinging her cheeks as she glared. “This is all some big joke to you, isn’t it? That you ... that we …” Her strangled voice cut off as she fought back the tears threatening to freeze down her cheeks. She let her anger take hold once more as she walled back her hurt. “You ruin everything nice around you like some kind of bad impulse.”

“What do you know about it, Pigeon,” he snapped, his own anger beginning to burn. “Grow up, lass. Thedas doesn't stop simply because you will it. Maker's breath, use your head for once and start realizing that your actions have consequences you might not like.”

Her anger whooshed out from under her as she stood, left with only her hurt and shock. “You’re pathetic.”

“At least I know what I want,” he called as she began to storm away. Him leaving didn’t seem like such a bad prospect anymore.

* * *

A letter from her mother awaited her return to the inn. She took the letter, and the separate room, burrowing under the covers as she opened the sealed envelope.

_“My dearest daughter,_

_It’s lovely to hear from you. We worried. Is it too much to ask that you stay safe? You always did love to fight, my rambunctious one. I hope you’re taking care of yourself out there._

_Your father’s health is declining at a rapid rate. Bethany thinks he won’t last until the next frost, which is why I must ask you to come home and abandon this foolish quest. Spend time with your father and cherish the memories. He misses you. We all miss you. Please come home, darling._

_Your loving mother.”_

Kalea frowned as she untangled herself from the blankets to sit at the desk. No response would satisfy her mother unless it consisted of her returning. But she couldn't, not yet, not when she grew so close to finding the ashes.

“ _Dear Mother,_

_You should know by now that we are equal in stubbornness. I'm heading to the Storm Coast next, following a solid lead. I think this might be it, but on the off chance it's not, here's my promise to you: I'll come home no matter the circumstance. But the Ashes are there, Mother, I can feel it. I can heal Father and we can be a family again, so please grant me your patience and your forgiveness._

_Your devoted daughter,_

_Kalea”_

She sighed, checking over the letter to make sure she didn't come off as offensive before sealing it in an envelope. She trudged out into the hall, down to the counter to pay the innkeeper to track down a messenger for her.

When she arrived back to the room, the door to her room stood ajar, dim candlelight spilling out into the hallway. She eased it open, her magic brimming just under her fingertips to attack her intruder.

Sebastian stood at her desk, a cherry pie in his hand along with the now open letter from her mother. She ripped the paper away from him, tearing the letter in half. He peered up from his half of the parchment, as though shocked by her sudden appearance into her room.

“That's private,” she snapped as he relinquished the rest of it to her greedy fingers. “What are you even doing here?”

He sat the pie down on the desk as his voice took on a grave tone. “Your father doesn't sound well.”

“I don't need you to remind me of what I'm fighting for. Again, what are you doing here, Sebastian?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his auburn hair as he stood awkward in front of her. “You should go home, be with your family, lass.”

She snatched the pie from its setting and shoved it into Sebastian’s hands. “Take your pie and leave. If I wanted your input, I'd ask for it.”

“He needs you. We don't know for sure we'll find the ashes on the Coast. Your mother's right, you need to spend the time you have left with him.”

“You just want me gone, but I'm not stopping without the ashes.” She knocked him back, attempting to wrangle him out her door. When that didn't work, her mouth spoke before her brain told her to stop. “What would you know of it? You don't even like your family. You have no idea how this feels.”

His face fell, visible hurt reflected in his eyes. “You're right, I don't. But I think that if you really loved them, you would go back.”

Her breath left in a puff of smoke as she hustled him the rest of the way out of the room, slamming the door and drawing the bolt for good measure.

 _Fuck him, what did he possibly know about this?_ He didn't know how the decision to leave ate at her, at how her mother's words haunted her, how she worried if she would see her father again.

She collapsed against the door, sobs lodged in her throat as she buried her face in her palms.

* * *

She left in the early part of the next morning.

She snuck out before dawn break, the sky a light grey as she slipped her hood over her face and hurried down the streets that lead out of the village. This felt familiar, leaving after an argument, perfect symmetry given how she began her journey. She survived before Sebastian, and she could certainly survive after. She didn't need him, just like he made it so apparent that he didn't need her.

She bit back her bitterness at the thought as she walked on, desperate to put distance between them. Would he even bother looking for her or would relief wash him of any responsibility to her?

She hurried on for most of the morn until her stomach rumbled from a lack of breakfast. Her mind drifted back to the pie Sebastian held the previous night, probably peace offering between them before he snooped through her private correspondence. If only she had thought to take it with her, but no. Going into his room for whatever reason, to steal a pie or the map that the Avvars bestowed to them, it left a high probability of alerting him to her departure. She couldn’t risk him waking up in the middle of her thieving.

But she would get to the Storm Coast on her own, stop and ask for directions where she could. Just like she could feed herself, digging out some carrots from her pack and nibbling on the ends as she continued on.

She hiked for hours, well into the night before stopping to make camp. With no one else around to bug her for rest, she could carry herself further, shortening the time until her arrival at the coast.

She hunted down a rabbit, drew the bonfire while she skinned, pretending not to notice the empty feeling that now accompanied the motions. She found herself looking to where his tent would be, finding the empty space of night in its place. Ridiculous, her blatant longing for him. She focused instead on eating, on pitching her tent, on crawling inside to fight off the cold overtaking her bones.

The snap of a twig woke her from an almost dream-like trance, her eyes popping open as her magic flared under her skin. Careful of attack, she crawled out of the tent, hands at ready for spellcasting.

Static built up along the hair of her body as she spotted Sebastian making his way into her clearing. Anger surged through her at the sight of his face, to know that he followed, but more than that, louder than she could deny, relief ran through her to know that he cared enough to chase her down, not abandon her to finish this quest by herself.

Fuck, how did she face him with her feelings so raw, her eyes tearing at the simple sight of his silhouette?

She shot out a spray of lightning, felling a tree into his path so that he was forced to stop. “Come no further.”

“You left without me,” he scowled as he started over the log. “I went to check on you and you were gone.”

She took a step back, the air crackling with electricity. “You told me to go, and I did. Why do you care?”

“I told you to go home, not continue on without me.” As he neared the firelight, she spotted the anguish in his eyes. “Why did you leave me behind? I thought we were in this together.”

Lightning flared up into the sky as she struggled to maintain a grip on her emotions. “You tried to get rid of me. Why, by the Maker, would I stay when you so clearly don’t want me around?”

A storm brewed above their heads, drawn by her powers. Thunder boomed as the sky broke open, her night clothes drenched in a matter of seconds. The fire doused to the right of her, Sebastian faring no better in the downpour. She wiped at her cheeks, the rain concealing her tears as she struggled to formulate her feelings into verbal form.

“I never said I didn’t want you around, Pidge!” He yelled over the increasing winds as a bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of him. “I never said that!”

“You told me to go home!”

“To be with your family!” He took careful steps forward, near screaming over the roar of the wind. “I've lost important people, too, and it hurts. No matter what you do, it hurts.”

She stumbled backwards at his approach, her foot catching the edge of her tent.

“But don’t ever think I don’t want you around, Kalea. You’re wrong, I never want you to leave.” He encroached on her position, shaky steps as he fought against the wind, unsure if she would move back. “I’m sorry.”

Lightning struck off to her right as the wind started to die down around them. He closed the last bit of distance between them, his arms wrapping around her back to hold her against him. Her wet clothes sealed against her skin as she stood, her own arms locked down at her side. It reminded her of sharing a tent, that sweet resin scent wafting off his damp skin and uncoiled hair. In a low, unsure movement, she raised her arms, looping them around his neck.

“You’re still a jerk,” she mumbled into his skin as she buried her face into his shoulder. The rain lessened into a drizzle as the clouds began to clear away, the moon peeking through the grey.

“I know, Pidge. I know.” He laid a kiss upon her wet hair, keeping her against him as if the world were to crumble at their feet.

* * *

“So, what do we do now, Pidge?”

Kalea and Sebastian stood next to each other as they eyed his reason for catching up to her so quickly. The horse whinnied at her approach, stamping its front hooves out as she attempted to coax it enough to untether it from a tree. “How did you get the money for a horse?”

Sebastian grinned as he moved in next to her, petting the horse’s golden mane. “I didn’t pay, I nicked it. Knew it’s be the quickest way to catch you.”

She groaned as she lead the horse out into the middle of the road. “Do you think if we released it, it would just go home?”

He rolled his eyes. “We should keep it, get to the Storm Coast quicker.”

“Oh good, another mouth to feed.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think this one eats meat though.”

He nodded after careful consideration. “We can get some nice coin for her the next town over. Maybe enough to stock our bags with sweet treats.”

She pursed her lips, stroking the horse down its nose. “That’s as good an idea as any, I suppose.” She stared into the horse’s golden eyes, reflecting much like its mane in the sunlight. “Should we name it?”

“How about … Horse?”

She hid her grin by burrowing her face into the horse’s neck. “Ah, right. I forgot who I spoke with.” She patted the horse one more time before loading her pack onto it and jumping on its back. “We might as well use her until it’s time. Do you know how to ride?” She held out her hand to him.

He scoffed, pushing her hand away as he hoisted himself onto its back. “Do I know how to ride? The question, dear Pigeon, is if you can hang on tight enough to ride with me.” He stole the reins from her hands, whipping them out in front of her.

The horse began its soft gallop down the road; Kalea nestled herself between Sebastian’s arms as the road lingered on.


	10. Act Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Your bravado is going to get us killed some day.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was told by my wonderful beta to break up what happens on the Storm Coast. So enter Part One of the Storm Coast. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, [check out this thing I wrote for the babies. ](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/169751930147/from-dafws-perfect-100s-this-weeks)

The Storm Coast lived up to its name. Kalea used her magic to shield her and Sebastian from the neverending mist that hit days before they reached the actual coast itself; still, a sticky damp coated their belongings by day’s end. Given their more recent excursions, this wasn’t the worst of the weather they encountered since they began their travels.

They didn't talk about what happened in the Frostbacks, but something changed between them, she knew that much. Aware of every acute movement he enacted, her stomach churned when she considered how he might touch her, how his nimble fingers often found excuses to brush against her. Neither spoke on it, this unsaid feeling blossoming between them, but she felt it, the only clear thing through the drizzle.

She didn't know what they waited for, only that they waited.

“We should reach the altar in a day or two.” Sebastian tucked the map back into his pocket as he glared out at the sky from under the tree where they rested for the moment, giving her a break to replenish her mana.

“Oh good. The less time spent here, the better. I think I’m starting to miss the cold.” She arched her hand out, pushing back the rain in a streak.

“Doesn’t it make you tired, using your magic constantly?” He brushed some of her hair back behind her shoulder, causing her to fluster.

She sputtered, jumping out of his reach, forever this game they played. “A little. I think when we end up in a fight, I’m going to need to choose between defending myself or keeping us dry.”

“That’s a tough call,” he teased as he readied himself to venture out from under the makeshift shelter. “I personally vote for dry.”

“That means you’ll need to pull your weight in a fight then.” She stuck her tongue out, stepping out into the rain to avoid his swatting. “Let’s head down by the shore, take the scenic route.”

He sighed as he joined her under the magical cover. “And here I thought you might be sick of the water, lass.”

“Oceans aren’t rain.” They stuck close together as they walked, careful not to tread outside their shelter. The area she created fit them, but didn’t spread far in order to conserve her strength. Maybe the augur’s tale about the dragon set her on edge, but a firing in her brain warned of danger ahead, be it swords, teeth, or Sebastian himself.

The shores fared worse with the undetained winds and accompanying spray, Sebastian shot daggers her way as he wiped his wet bangs from his vision. She ignored his silent loathing as she swept the ground for seashells to take home. Beth would love them, probably keep them on the shelf next to her books. And Kalea wanted a few for herself, mementos from her grand trip across Ferelden. Who knew when she would get the chance to travel like this again? Experience the freedom she gained away from her family?

She let down her magic, a sharp yelp coming from Sebastian as he scrambled away to find some kind of loose cover. She closed her eyes, tiny raindrops hitting her face, her hair gathering the moisture along with her clothes. Amid the salty fish smell and the whoosh of the waves crashing around her, she breathed in the serenity of the sea as her heart whispered her most secret desire to the wind: for this trip to never end.

Maybe when the twins were older, they could do their own journey across Ferelden, just the three of them. She imagined Carver’s reaction to mimic Sebastian’s while Beth and she splashed into the ocean, shrieking at the temperature. Eventually, one of them would throw some of the water Carver’s way, much to his annoyance, and then he’d stomp over, pretending to be pissed as he dove in with them.

The daydream pulled at her heart as she pictured it, a tenderness for the family she missed, but the burden of them ushered in with the emotion, a harsh reminder that her time abroad ended soon.

Something knocked into her boot. Glancing down, she spotted a chipped pale pink conch shell that floated in with a wave. She stooped to dig it out, washing it in the second one. She marveled at its spiral, which, even chipped, remained beautiful and strong.

She peered behind her to where Sebastian waited under an ill-growing tree, arms crossed but his face a mixture of annoyance and appreciation. She held up the chipped shell for him to see. “Do you want one?”

He rolled his eyes, though a tilt of a smile tugged at his lips. “Right, give me the broken one.”

She abandoned her perch in the sand, skipping over to his makeshift awning to shove it into his hand. “Lovely things can be broken, too.”

“It’s just another thing to carry.” He pretended to scowl as he inspected it.

She shook her head as she gave him a mock glare, snatching it out of his hand to shove into his pocket. “Stop complaining and accept my gift, Bas.”

“Aye, you worked real hard on that one, Pidge.”

She lingered with her hand in his pocket, the warmth from the wool and his body heat thawing out her frozen fingers. She moved her other hand into his adjacent pocket, pretending not to notice how very close they stood to each other.

“What are you doing,” he murmured, his eyes searching hers for an answer to his question.

“Shh, my hands are cold. I’ll move in a second, just let me warm up.”

He leaned forward, his weight resting against her upright position. “No, you’re alright, lass.” He rested his chin atop her head as he maneuvered his hands to join hers in his pockets, his fingers wrapping around her frozen digits.

* * *

 

They moved back into the hills when her coastline curiosity sated itself, the dewy humidity soaked into their clothes and armor. Sebastian vocalized his displeasure about it, blaming only her for his gross state. She batted her eyelashes to fend off his complaints, both of them aware that only her abilities kept him even remotely dry.

As the evening drew close, they commenced hunting for a dry spot to hide themselves for the night. She discovered a vast underbrush under one of the taller trees that allowed for tents but not a fire. Sebastian started to settle in, but a small tremor in the ground halted her own progress, a prickling multiplying along the hairs on her arms. She laid a hand on his shoulder, the other tapping her lips with a finger as she motioned to outside their cover.

The tremors grew, and if she didn’t know better, they felt like footsteps. Her pulse quickened as she imagined the creature attached to them, her mind conjuring the augur’s vision of Andraste’s wrath.

She peeked out from their convenient hiding place, a small gasp pushing her lips apart as she beheld the sight only a breath away.

A purple and white crested dragon chased down a pack of rams in a field ahead, snatching up the slower moving ones and gobbling them in one massive bite. She recognized it as a Vinsomer with its down-slope horns and vibrant yellow coloring; Carver kept a book on dragons that she read aloud to him in his youth. It never prepared her for meeting one in real life. Electricity surged beneath her skin as she stared at the lightning crackling around its beak.

Weight pushed her aside as Sebastian leaned against her to see out. “Maker’s fucking breath,” he hissed, his fingers digging into her shoulders. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What does it bloody look like?” She jabbed her elbow into his side to give her room to scoot back. “We need to leave, now.”

“And go where, exactly? In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a fucking _dragon_ out there.” He gestured to the underbrush opening.

“Away, far away. I can sense it, and if I can sense it, it can probably sense me, too.” She tugged at the straps of the pack on her back.

“We can take it,” he teased, though she read his fear in his twitching hands and wavering tone.

She rolled her eyes as she crouched by the entrance. “Your bravado is going to get us killed some day.” She waved her hand forward. “Let’s go.”

They snuck out after reassuring that the dragon didn’t spot them, footsteps treading light across the pliable ground. When she no longer felt the tug of energy, she snatched Sebastian’s hand, high-tailing it in the direction opposite the large reptile as she yanked him along. She didn’t bother with a covering, preserving her magic in case the dragon followed. Her hair stuck to her face in the drizzle, strands melding together in the ensuing wet. They skirted down a large hill and well into the valley below before she slowed, Sebastian mimicking her pace. They both pushed their stringy hair away from their faces, but she kept hold of his hand; for security or another reason, she couldn’t give voice.

The sky darkened overhead as what little sunlight daytime granted to them began to fail, night falling quick with their lack of a camp. When they came across a shallow river, she suggested they follow it upstream, camp close by.

* * *

 

They returned to the road after a restless night’s rest. She didn’t have faith in their collective ability to face a dragon head-on, but the dry weather and the rare sun glistening across the river made for easy travel as they followed it towards the ocean. She bounded toward it with reluctant eagerness as she considered the prospect of their quest coming to an end at long last. Sebastian kept to a casual stroll, resulting in her being leagues ahead of him when she spotted where the tree line ended.

“Last one to the ocean is a loiter-sack!” She darted forward, sparing a glance behind her. Sebastian’s pace remained the same as before.

She turned around to taunt him forward, but a serious expression crossed his features as he snatched his bow and an arrow, yelling, “Kalea!” as he sprinted forward. “Duck!”

She hit the ground, barrel-rolling forward as Sebastian shot the area above her head, a low growl coming from an unseen enemy behind her. She spun on her heel as she took to her feet, calling forth her earth magic to raise the stones around her. She faltered when she saw the beast they faced. “Shit, shit, double shit,” she whispered as she craned her neck to observe the giant in full, taking in its large tusks and irate single blue eye as it glowered down at her, an arrow sticking out of its shoulder as muddy brown blood leaked from the wound. She stood only slightly above its knee, a small fraction of its enormous height.

Sebastian appeared at her side while she gaped, grabbing her arm and yanking her to the side as the giant’s hands swiped at them. “Now would be a good time for one of those attacks we’ve been working on,” he said, snapping her from her trance.

“Right,” she responded, frost biting her fingertips as she coated the arrow loaded into his bow. As he released it, she cast a cold spell; the blood inside the giant’s arm froze as it sunk into its flesh, rendering its arm useless. It roared, tearing at the arrow as it stomped around.

They darted back as Sebastian fired again, her frost on this one too. But when it hit the creature’s stomach, her magic only nipped at its skin. Sebastian shot her a questioning look as she ran forward, shouting behind her, “I have to get closer!” She raised the ground around her, throwing it forward. The giant shielded its face with its working arm, a strangled cry coming from its mouth. With no large rocks in the area, she switched to fire magic, aiming for the hair on its chest.

It roared, beating its chest to attempt to put the fire out. Sebastian shot again, aiming for its burning flesh, and eliciting another cry as it hit where she figured a heart should be. But it remained standing, pissed off and shrieking as it flailed. It charged at her, barely giving her enough time to dodge.

Her powers flared at the close contact as she switched to lightning, shocking its back as Sebastian lead a frontal assault. It swung around as one of the arms struck her, sending her flying across the woods. Her back slammed into a tree as she struggled to maintain consciousness, pain blooming along her spine.

“Kalea!” Sebastian raced over, shooting a spray of arrows until he could kneel by her side. A trembling hand swept her hair from her face as concerned eyes assessed her state. When he discerned that she fared well enough, he chuckled, grabbing one of the potions they bought with the horse money from his pack. “You never told me you could fly.”

“Laugh it up, dalcop.” She snatched at the potion, downing it in one gulp, the pain lessening immediately. She struggled to stand up, even with Sebastian’s help. “It’s rebuffing all of our attacks.”

His hand dug into her waist as he supported the majority of her weight. “Do you want to run?”

She shook her head, her hair falling back into her face. “No, we can still win. We can-” She stepped forward, an agonizing pain shooting through her back. She stifled a cry into his shoulder as she braced herself against him.

He started to pull them back, away from the rampaging giant that searched for them in the forest. “Let’s go. We can still make it out of here.”

“No!” She tightened her grip on him. “It started this, and now we’re finishing it. If none of our attacks work, we just need to aim higher.” She snapped her fingers as an idea registered in her mind. “The eye! Aim for the eye!”

Sebastian lowered her back to the ground as he readied his bow. “Wish me luck.”

She scoffed, a tight smile on her face. “And you wanted to take on a dragon.”

He gave her a wink as he grinned, darting back onto the battlefield. He jumped around as he called to the creature, “Hey, shit for brains! Over here, lard basket!” It swiveled its attention toward him as he aimed toward the lumbering giant, hands steady and face stoic as he concentrated on the small target.

Kalea found herself praying. _Dear Maker, please let this idiot make this shot._

The arrow sped across the gap, lodging itself center in the beast’s eye. A final cry escaped its mouth as it fell first to its knees then onto it’s back, the arrow jutting out of its eye as a clear fluid leaked around it.

Sebastian peered over at her, triumph spanning his face as he jogged back over to where he left her. She lifted herself to her feet, flaring her nostrils as she fought against the sharp, stabbing pain. He reattached his bow to his back before drawing her into an embrace.

“Let’s not do that again,” he mumbled into her neck as his arms locked around her back, a gentle threat of never letting her go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dalcop: Cop is an old word for the head, making a dalcop (literally a “dull-head”) a particularly stupid person. You can also be a harecop, or a “hare-brained” person
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I might try to commission the image of Kalea with her hands in Sebastian's pocket.


	11. Act Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Ah, you...you should probably know, I’m a...virgin.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks. This chapter is why this fic has the Explicit rating, just a quick fyi.

They trudged at a sluggish pace for the rest of the day. Sebastian's hand anchored on Kalea's waist, he kept her steady as she struggled to walk. Her back throbbed with pain, bad enough to slow her steps, but well enough to keep her moving. She might bruise, but no internal damage, thank the Maker. And Sebastian fared fine, coming out of the battle unscathed. She saw no reason to complain.

When the sun started to set across the sea, they decided to camp. She ignored the disappointment of not reaching the ashes that day, but she enjoyed how her companion doted on her in her slightly weakened state, refusing to allow her to set up her tent or the fire, her fire magic the only help he needed. They ate crabs in the hills where they camped, and chatted as she rested against him and played with the fire, ebbing it back and towing it forward.

When the night drew to a close with the fire dying down in front of them, she brought up the subject she skirted around for most of the evening. “The Ashes, we’re really going to find them tomorrow.” Though no wind blew, she chilled, scooting further into Sebastian’s side.

“Aye,” he said as he tightened his grip on her shoulder.

She cleared her throat as her eyes kept to the coals. “You know, we could really use someone like you on our side, um, my family, that is. If you ever … wanted ... to come to Highever. My mother wouldn’t turn down a stray like yourself.” It was a long shot, she knew, but she wanted to keep this going, whatever _this_  was.

He laughed as his hand brushed the back of his neck, his eyes joining hers in staring at the dying pit. “I appreciate the thought, lass, but I think it’s time for me to stop running. I need to return to my own family, face this path they’ve set out for me.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged as she rubbed her arm, unsure of where to lead the conversation next. It had always been a possibility, that their time together would come to an end with the ashes. The romantic in her pictured introducing him to her parents, having him sit beside her at the dinner table while her siblings teased. But she couldn’t fault him for taking responsibility over his life, for wanting to make amends with his family.

When she didn’t respond, he rested his cheek against her hair. “I should thank you. I don’t know if I would’ve gone back if I never met you.” The fingers from his free hand danced along her knee, tapping circles until his palm pressed down. “You, ah, you really changed things for me, Pidge.”

A swell of pride rose in her chest, along with a burning question to which she knew the answer. She bit her upper lip as she struggled to ask, “Am I going to see you again?”

“Probably not, lass.” He drew his hand back, her knee growing cold in the absence of the heat he provided. What happened when he disappeared from her side altogether, the source of light from this trip that she drew upon to keep her going? What did she do with her budding feelings then? She peered up at him, mouth shut, but mind racing.

Light illuminated his features, highlighting his tousled amber hair and softening the angles in his face; she yearned to reach over and cover each peek of skin with her lips, have his hands slide her clothes off her burning body, his hips rolling into hers as she straddled his lap.

Not all the flaming in her cheeks originated from the campfire. She rose, his hand on her shoulder falling to the wayside as she avoided his questioning look. “I’m headed to bed.”

He joined her, getting to his feet and dusting off his backside. “Not a bad idea. Busy day tomorrow.”

She nodded before making her way over to her tent, letting the flap fall closed behind her. She lingered by the entrance, breath held as she wondered if he might come join her. But who was she if not another conquest, someone he could easily pretend didn’t exist back across the pond. She sighed, shoulders sagging once more as she moved to dress in her nightclothes, brushing her hair out and rinsing her face before laying down.

A small part of her didn’t want to return, didn’t want this trip to end. The freedom her quest granted left her intoxicated with the madness of it, the ability to make her own decisions and live wild amongst the land. And she enjoyed Sebastian’s company, despite the complicated feelings he brought to her. She liked the way he knew how to make her laugh, the gentle way he touched her, the finesse he used when fighting.

She wiggled around on her back as she squeezed her eyes shut in a poor attempt to clear her mind. She forced thoughts of him away, reflecting instead on finding the ashes and the elation that would follow, but the only ecstasy she imagined happened between her thighs as she pictured Sebastian’s mouth against her in the same way as that Avvar woman she spied him with.

If she caved into her desires, really went through with the plan forming in her mind, nothing could hold her back from growing more attached to him, a problem she already needed to deal with. He wouldn’t stay, not for her. So where did this leave them? Teetering on this edge of what-if, regret for doing or regret for thinking; which was worse?

 _No more thinking, not tonight._ She pushed herself up, wincing at the strain in her back at the movement, and crawled out of the tent. Her feet carried her across the small space between their two tents; she lingered outside, unsure of what to say once she entered. Would he be receptive to her advance? Her doubt ate into the lining of her stomach, nausea spinning her head as she struggled for clarity.

She drew in a breath and tucked her hair behind her ears as she rapped on the canvas. “Knock knock.”

“Pidge?” She heard shuffling come from inside before a sleepy face poked his head out. “What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”

She kneeled in front of him so they were level. “Can I come in?”

He nodded, holding open the flap while she ducked under his arm. Once inside, she noted his disheveled appearance, his mismanaged hair and bare chest with his rumpled bottoms. Her eyes caught the trail of hair that lead from his navel to under his waistband, a warm flush creeping into her cheeks. _Was he sleeping?_ Maybe she should turn around, go back to her tent.

He didn’t say anything, though she spotted concern in his gaze as he read over her face. A few minutes passed with the uneasy tension filling the space. He brushed her cheek with his knuckle as they each waited for the other to speak.

When neither did, he ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking back to the tent opening. “Want me to grab your bedroll?” She nodded, watching him leave then return with her blanket and pillow tucked under his arms. He laid them out for her next to his and patted the space as he laid down. “There,” he murmured as he slid under his own blanket. “Just like old times.”

She proceeded to her spot, but didn’t lay down, instead drawing her knees to her chest. Sebastian reached out from under his cover to stroke her bare ankles, his movement growing more languid as their silence stretched.

“Bas,” she whispered when his fingers stilled, his breathing deep. Half of her hoped he slept, and she could just forget about this silly notion, continue on with her life, remembering him as her “almost” first time.

But he stirred, eyes opening to flick up to hers as a mumble of acknowledgement left his throat. When he spotted her still in her sitting position, he drew back his covers and opened his arms. “‘Mm ‘ere, Pidge.”

She slid inside the blanket with him, his body heat wrapping her into a warm bundle, building her comfort level enough to squirm until she molded to him. He smiled as he pressed a kiss into her hair, arms encasing her. She pushed herself up so that her face didn’t bury in his neck, her head on the pillow next to his.

He kept his eyes shut, breath spanning across her wet lips as she ran her tongue across them. Her fingers caressed their way up his jawline until they reached his hair, weaving through the silken strands of his auburn locks. She ran her nails along his scalp until her nerve grew enough to lean in and slide her lips over his, pressing a soft kiss into them. His mouth turned up into a smile as she delivered another, holding longer than the last. He shifted, hands gracing her back while nudging his knee between her thighs.

Her front teeth clanked into his when she attempted to deepen the kiss, drawing a chuckle from him as he drew back. “Slow down, Pigeon.”

She mumbled an apology as he hauled her in for a real kiss, her mouth opening under his tongue’s gentle prodding. He tasted of dinner, the salt on his tongue leaving her thirsty. Her hands glided down his body, toying with his chest hair as her fingers traipsed down toward his waistband, tugging the blanket down with her.

Her fingers unknotted his drawstrings as he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as his eyes finally opened to inspect her face. “You sure, lass?”

She stilled, annoyed at herself for assuming he would be okay with this. “Unless … Unless you don’t want to.”

“Aye, I do. Want to.” His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips as a hand frisked up her curves. “You have no idea how much I do.”

A lump formed in her throat at his admission, a ravenous hunger forming in his eyes that sent chills down her back. “No more games, then.”

“None.”

As his lips attempted to collide with hers, she inched back, keeping her eyes cast down to hide her awkwardness over the subject matter. “Ah, you … you should probably know, I’m a … virgin.”

His hips rocked into hers, his hardened lower half pressing into her. “Aye, but not for much longer.”

Their mouths reconverged, his tongue teasing hers without the clashing of teeth as his hands untucked her nightshirt, warm fingers skimming the length of her stomach in her careful undressing. She wiggled out of it, lifting herself from the ground to help him slide it over her head, hair raining down around her from the static build-up the shirt created. The chilled air of the coast rippled goosebumps across her chest.

She rattled under the even temper of his gaze creeping over her bareness, an appetite for her in his eyes when they returned to her. His mouth recaptured hers with craving when his palms kneaded her breasts, stroking and pinching as his hips bucked against her once more.

He shifted, nudging her onto her back. She winced when the ground made contact with her bruises; he swept some of her hair away with his nose, observing her poorly-hidden, pained expression. “How’s your back?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she forced a smile while she adjusted underneath his weight, seeking comfort on the hard floor.

“I’ll try to not jostle you too much,” he said as he lowered for another kiss, tongue flitting against hers. “Does this position work?”

She nodded before she inclined her head to bring her mouth back to his. Sebastian pinned her down, supporting himself on elbows resting on both sides of her head; his hands teased through her hair. Leaving one hand on his backside, she brought the other to tangle in his curls, refusing him every time he attempted to trail down. He smirked against her lips, nipping at her bottom one, which caused a ripple of pleasure to shoot up her spine. She bit back before sucking his lip through her teeth, his hands tightening in her hair, his lower half rubbing along her thigh.

“You’re too good at this,” he murmured when they eased back from each other to breathe.

“I have a good teacher,” she teased, laying a light kiss on his lips. Part of her didn’t need for this to go any further than his lips with hers; she could be content with only this. But a deeper part of her lusted for more, to taste and bite and feel every inch of him, to be devoured so completely by him that she never felt whole again.

And that part of her reached down, brushed her fingertips across the outside of the fabric of his pants, and wrapped her hands around him, giving it a stroke and enjoying the full-body shudder than overtook him. He let go of her hair and knocked her hand away. “Patience, my eager pigeon,” he whispered, He licked down her neck and traced over the cooling line with searing kisses, biting and sucking the skin as his hands edged down her pants; she lifted her hips to help him yank them off of each leg and allowed him to move between them.

He knelt before her, his aquamarine eyes lusting after her naked flesh. Only her underwear hid her from his unabashed gaze, a thin defense from his prying eyes.

His fingers glided from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts, stopping to thumb across her hardened nipples. She chewed on her lips as heat welled inside her, already begging for an end to this anticipation he created. She held her breath when he leaned down to skate his tongue through the valley his fingers drew through, following the trail with soft, fluttery kisses while his hands kneaded her breasts.

His right hand moved to cup her as he traced the outline of her aereola with his tongue. Kalea’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her fingers digging into his back. He mumbled something unfamiliar into her skin before his tongue flicked against her nub, another wave of pleasure goosing the hairs on her arm.

“I didn’t catch that.” She didn’t recognize her own voice, so distant and thick with desire. Her palm smoothed back the hair hanging in his face so their eyes could connect.

He bit harder into her, eliciting a cry. She rocked into him, worming her behind up toward the slope of his legs. She wrapped her legs around his backside, his erection pressing into her through the fabric of her underwear. A soft moan floated up from where his mouth now clamped fully on her breast, tongue lavishing her while she fought to control her breathing, his other hand working on teasing her other breast.

Her hands knotted in his hair; he extracted whimpers from her throat, alternating tongue and teeth before switching his attention to her other peak. Outside, thunder rumbled when his teeth scraped across her nipple, her breathing staggered as she writhed under his attentions.

When her breast popped out of his mouth, she yanked his hair to bring him back up to greet her awaiting lips as he shifted into her. His tip stretched the fabric of her underwear, pressing against her entrance. Her breath caught in her throat when it landed there. The crack of lightning sounded over their heads on his last push, a whimper drawing from her throat.

“Stop being such a tease,” she breathed. She laid a kiss on his throat, teeth nipping at the skin. He let out a breathy sigh, leaning back to allow his fingers to dance down her body.

He muttered something she didn’t understand, the language similar to his previous whisper as he drew circles around her navel, fingers edging lower with each swirl.

“What did you say?” she muttered, shifting to try and rejoin her mouth to his, but he kept away, eyes on her face when his fingers inched under the band to her underwear.

“I said, I like to take my time with my food.” A wolfish grin formed on his lips, his fingers grazing the pooling slickness between her folds. Sebastian dove toward her to swallow the moan that parted her lips. A finger circled her clit in slow-moving agony; she bit his lip to hurry him along, jutting her hips up into his hand.

When he drew back, kissing his way over to nibble on her earlobe, she begged, her throat hoarse with need. “Please, Bas.”

“Say it again,” he hissed in her ear, teeth nipping at the shell of it. His finger strayed to the center of her, massaging hard lines while she grew dizzy with pleasure.

Thunder boomed, loud enough for the ground to tremble. She clutched his shoulder, her whimpering increasing. “Please,” she groaned as his tongue flicked into her ear. “Fuck, please.”

He withdrew, kissing her cheek and mumbling something else in his foreign tongue as he shifted to hover over her. His finger slid down, rimming her entrance until slowly delving into her, a strangled cry bubbling from her throat. He probed, observing which movements caused pleasure to ripple across her features. She fought to bring his mouth down to hers, use the air in his lungs to help her breathe.

Another finger joined in the teasing before he withdrew to drag his fingers up to her clit then snaking them both inside her, setting a powerful tempo while he plunged them into her again and again. The crash of thunder outside drowned out her hoarse moans; a small sprinkling of rain hit the side of the tent, which lit up with a streak of lightning overhead.

He gave a few more soft thrusts, mouth trailing down her body. He slunk backwards and removed his fingers, washing her heat off them by lapping them clean with his tongue. Mortification bloomed in her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from the animalistic look in his eyes that captivated her.

Picking up one of her legs, he forced her knee to bend so he could inch her underwear down over her foot. His lips grazed the inside of her calf before letting her foot drop back down, turning his attention to her other leg while he maneuvered her underwear the rest of the way off. With his eyes trained on hers, his hands slipped under her butt, lifting her hips up; pain bloomed from her lower backside, glimpses of it flashing across her face. Her fists clenched in the blanket as she struggled to fight off her watering eyes.

Sebastian lowered her back down, carefully setting her on the ground. “If it hurts, say something.” He crawled over her, scattering kisses into her hair. “You can tell me to stop. I won’t get mad.”

She shook her head, craning her neck to capture his lips. “No. No, I want this.” Her head settled back on the pillow as she peered up at him, admiring how his hair hung around his face. The heat she felt for him was reflected in his eyes. “I want you.”

The serious expression on his face fell away into a cocky grin when he leaned down for another kiss. “Aye? I’ll be the judge of that.” He slid backwards, searing open-mouthed kisses down her body, his eyes fixated on hers. He nipped while he nuzzled the inside of her thighs, a shudder rolling up her body. A low whine bloomed within her chest.

He lowered himself even with the ground as he positioned her legs over his shoulders. “Comfortable?” He waited for her nod before he kissed along her inner thigh. His caress electrifying the lower half of her body. She fought back the noises that rose from deep within her. The storm picked up outside, the wind starting to whip at the tent.

“Don’t do that. Don’t hold back,” he rasped. “I want to hear you.” His mouth trailed inward, the anticipation leaving her rigid. Her breathing slowed. He puffed at her dousing center and his hands dug into the slender muscles of her thighs, holding them back as his eyes sparkled from between her legs. “You look especially gorgeous from this position.”

She cursed when he slicked a line between her folds, the thunder booming above their heads, the ground shaking from the force of it. His teeth raked over her. A spasm built in her limbs as he buried his face between her thighs, tongue lapping up her wetness. Helpless cries left her dry lips as she all but thrashed under his mouth. His fingers seized into her muscles to stay the wild bucking of her hips, driving herself further into his mouth.

His tongue glided over her before he sucked her into his mouth, teeth lightly squeezing in his tease. The storm raged outside while her impassioned shouting increased, wordless sobs pleading with him, with the Maker. Electricity snapped all over her nerve endings, tension coiling tighter. A hot pool of ecstasy flourished where his mouth worked with her. A shattering wail left her as it gushed forth, simultaneous with the loud strike of lightning and the sudden burst of the clouds overhead, rain pelting the tent.

Sebastian didn’t stop with that. Her sobbing slowed, her panting dying down when he drew back once more, untangling himself from her limbs. Sebastian pulled off his pants, his erection springing out when he edged his waistband down. She turned her head to hide her snickering, hand raising up to cover her upturned lips.

He leaned over her, the tip of him grazing her stomach. “What?” he growled, lips moving under her jawline where he sprinkled kisses. He bit in when he got to her chin, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“No offense, but it’s just … that’s it? It’s so … absurd looking.”

He laughed with her before his mouth captured hers. “You are certainly …” His voice trailed off, gaze shifting away.

“I’m what?”

“One of a kind, Pidge.” A sad smile flickered across his lips as he laid a kiss on the tip of her nose and scooted back. Wrapping his hand around himself, he pressed against her entrance.

She squirmed under him to line herself up better. Her legs wrapped around the back of his as she stared into his face, biting her lip.

“Ready?” His own eyes inspected her face for assurance, which she gave with some reluctance.

She would be lying if it didn’t scare her, especially given his size and the slight upward hook, but he made her calm, and she knew that even with them this close, if she asked him to stop, he would, without hesitation. She trusted him, and that’s all that mattered in the moment.

“Yes,” she said, her voice coming out more even and assured than she felt. Her eyes cast down as she glimpsed him entering her. A pleasurable moan rumbled within his chest when he eased into her; she winced under the foreign feeling. Her nails dug into him, a puff of air passing her lips.  

His hips lined flush with hers and he kissed her, gentle, lingering kisses that mirrored the concern shining in his gaze. “You okay, lass?”

She answered with another kiss, her tongue snaking into his mouth as she rocked into him, enjoying the unrestrained hiss that passed into her mouth.

“Minx,” he grumbled against her lips, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “You’ll pay for that.” He dragged himself back only to thrust into her, her hands clenching in his hair as she buried her face into his shoulder, a desperate, guttural cry rising from inside her.

His motions started slow, driving into her with gusto, but leaving her time to catch her breath before the next drawn-out shove inside her. The storm ramped up again outside, the wind rattling the fabric of the tent. Lightning crackled overhead. A yelp coincided with a particularly loud strike when his hand reached down to play with her clit again.

Kalea clung to him as his tempo increased, helpless gasps fighting against the roar of the storm outside. He whispered foreign words into her ear between heavy panting as he plunged into her again and again. Fingers working between them, the frisson of it leaving her gasping.

She kissed and bit into his shoulder and neck as that sensation swelled with each plunge into her. With the frenzy in his movements, he grew more vocal, a string of curses in both Common and the other language flying from his mouth.

She clenched around him; impassioned howls mixed with the sound of him and a loud cracking just outside, tremors erupting in the ground as a sweet relief cascaded over her body, gushing between her legs; he kept going, his own rapture not far behind hers.

He collapsed on top of her, sweat adhering his skin to hers. He laid his head beside hers, both of them panting, fighting to catch their breath. The storm outside rumbled, though it sounded like the worst was over. She stroked his hair, musing over the moment and her elation while she peered at Sebastian’s reddened face. His eyes swept over hers before he burst out laughing.

“What?” She pursed her lips, tugging at his hair.

“You know, for a second there, it felt like all Thedas was moving.” He pressed a kiss to her before extracting himself from between her legs and rolling onto his back, his chest heaving with the struggle to catch his breath.

She remained still, chilled by the sudden loss of his body heat. “I felt it, too. I think it was an earthquake.” She rose up, gathering her clothes from the random spots they fell around the tent. She didn’t know what the normal post-sex procedures were, but if he moved off her so quickly, she could take a hint.

His hand caught her wrist when she bent to pick up her underwear. “What are you doing?”

“Going back to my tent.”

He shook his head, pulling her and her bundle of clothes down into the crook of his arms. “Stay. It sounds a mess out there.”

She inspected his face, Struggling to relax in his arms. “This isn’t an obligation thing, is it?”

He nuzzled her forehead, nose pushing back her hair for him to plant a kiss there. “You’re hardly an obligation, Pidge.” When her expression didn’t change, he added, “I want you to stay.”

She sat up again, picking up her underwear with success this time. “I have to grab something,” she said when she spotted his frown. “And then I’ll be back.”

He reached under her pillow and dragged out her red pendant; her eyes lit up to see it. “This, right?”

She snatched it from his hand, looping it over her neck and admiring it, hanging between her bare breasts. “How did you know?”

“You haven’t been having nightmares, and that’s the only thing I could think that might account for the change.” He smiled and reached out to trace the outline of it. “It looks beautiful on you.”

She blushed as she scooted forward, his hand traveling up to cup her head and bring her down for a kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The storm will be explained. All will be explained. 
> 
> Also, time to dip into my headcanons. That language Sebastian is speaking? Old Scottish Gaelic, spoken by everyone in Starkhaven. Sebastian is saying some nasty nasty things in that language because, guess what, another headcanon, he's very into dirty talk. He also gets a lot out of pleasuring his partner and is very into visual and vocal cues of that pleasure.
> 
> Feel free to tell me your own headcanons about him!


	12. Act Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“There are ways to test my theory, of course. Later, when you’re in the mood.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to YourLocalPriestess for her idea in the second half of this chapter.

The sunlight was short lived, as she woke up the next day with a gentle sprinkling bouncing off the tent. Warmth hugged her back as gentle breathing against her ear blew strands of her hair into her face; an arm pitched over her hips as another acted as a pillow for her head. She struggled to not shift too much, instead reveling in the feel of him snuggled against her and inhaling the scent of their sex that lingered heavy in the air.

She stayed still for as long as her bladder allowed before sliding out from beneath his embrace to find something to cover herself with. Her shirt laid nearby, but she didn’t wish to pull both it and her pants on for a quick endeavor, so she picked up one of his instead, folded nearby, the incense smell soaked into the fabric. She breathed it in as she dropped it over her head, eyes taking note of the purple splotches along her breasts. She glanced over at her sleeping companion, scanning his naked upper half for a matching set. Sure enough,  her own marks decorated his shoulders and neck.

She grinned while she headed out of the flaps.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she surveyed the damage from last night’s storm. A gash in the ground tore through the middle of their camp, her destroyed tent resting in one of the few trees left standing, her pack and the items inside it strewn all over the mud.

She found the seashells from the shore sitting where her tent once stood, the only thing leftover from what was once housed inside. Some of her potions tangled in the tree roots nearby. She spotted her clothes strewn about in the ash pile of the fire. She mumbled curses as she traipsed around the camp, her anger building with each bend to pluck something else out of the mud. She huffed, her breath coming out in a cold cloud, and when her fingers touched one of the cooking pots, it froze solid before cracking into shards. She let out a frustrated groan as she kicked at some of the shards.

Fabric rustled behind her, a raspy “Sweet Maker” echoing. A half-clothed Sebastian stood just outside his tent, eyes wide as they roved the destroyed campsite, stopping when reaching her twisted face as she struggled not to cry. He darted over, leaping over the gash that separated them so he could gather her in his arms, petting her head and sprinkling kisses along her crown. “Hey Pidge, it’s okay. It’s just things.”

She dropped the items in her arms to wrap herself in him, tears coming despite her best effort to hold them back. “My things,” she mumbled, burrowing her face into the hair of his naked chest. “Half of it’s still unaccounted for.”

“I’ll help you search.”

But she refused to move, keeping her arms locked around him. This wasn’t what she meant for their morning, breakfast and getting on the road early now out of the question. Gentle kisses and giggling as they struggled to leave their beds, her hands fluttering along his skin as she took the time to appreciate him. Now all that potential happiness lost to the storm from the night before.

His hands rubbed her back, smoothing out the damp fabric along her back. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“Watch me,” she mumbled, digging her face further into his chest.

He pried her arms off of him and held her out at shoulder length. She glared up at him through the wet hair sticking to her face. “I know you’re upset. If you want, you can stay here and clean up what you found already.” He kissed her nose before letting go, avoiding the broken pot while he stepped around it.

She sat under one of the upright trees, close to their tent, as she cupped rainwater in her hands and used her magic to run it over her muddy things, scrubbing to get the stains out of her clothes. She counted them as she went along, doing a mental assessment of what she still missed.

Sebastian returned with her actual pack and more items. She recognized her inkwell and unsalvageable parchment tumble down with everything else. “Anything still missing, lass?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Nothing important.”

He took a seat beside her in the grass. “How can I help?”

“If you found the string, I need to hang up my clothes somewhere relatively dry.”

Instead of moving, he leaned into her, head resting on her shoulder as his hand rested on her opposite side of her waist. “Take a break with me,” he said as his fingers fumbled to reach the hem of her clothes. “My shirt looks good on you.” He hooked a finger into the dip of her shirt, pulling it back while peeking inside. “As do those marks.”  

Despite being upset at her predicament, she hid a small smile as he laid back, dragging her on top of him. His hands skated under her shirt, cupping her ass as he rocked her forward. She bent her head to capture his mouth, delivering sweet kisses as he hummed with each one.

“Good morning,” he mumbled in between.

“Shite morning,” she grumbled before his lips took hers in full, his body swiveling them so that his weight pressed her into the grass. His tongue intertwined with hers as he inched her shirt over her stomach.

His mouth trailed away from hers to her neck. “I had plans for us.”

She pushed his hand away as it reached her breast. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for these plans.”

He sighed, scooting back onto his knees as he pressed a kiss into her stomach before yanking her shirt back down and falling on top of her chest. “Aye.” He buried his face between her breasts as he blew air out of his nose, his hands worming their way under her back. “Let me lay here then.”

She chuckled, stroking his hair as she stared up into the tree overhead. “That was a crazy storm last night,” she mused as she held his head to her.

“Was it?” came his muffled reply. He pinched at her back, causing her to squeal and squirm underneath him. “Seems like it might be magic to me.” He raised his head, digging his chin into her as his eyes observed her face.

She huffed. “You think I would do that to myself?”

“Not intentionally. But you said so yourself, Pidge, you can’t always control your magic.”

She growled, turning her face away, but unable to help herself from considering it. It made sense, in a perverse way. And she definitely felt her talents electrifying her skin last night. But was this for certain? She bit her lip as she pondered the idea, it making more sense with each passing second.

“Um ... Have you …?” She cleared her throat, trying to formulate the question again with lessened embarrassment and awkwardness. “Have you, um, done that before ... with another mage?”

He shook his head. “You’re my first in that aspect.” A wolf’s grin took over his face. “There are ways to test my theory, of course. Later, when you’re in the mood.”

“And lose another tent?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief as his hand skated up the inside of her thigh; she shoved them together to stop its progress. “The one we were in was safe.”

“And what makes you think this will happen again?” She gestured between them.

“I didn’t hear any complaints last night.” He wriggled up her body so that his face hovered above hers.

“You’re being awfully presumptuous,” she whispered, her eyes flicking down to his lips.

“I’m just very good at what I do,” he grinned as he leaned in for a kiss.

* * *

They made very little progress, a day wasted, possibly thanks to her pleasure the night before. She tried not to grit her teeth as she thought about it, most of her things in ruin or close to it. They camped early, her back still a bit sore. Once she got in the tent, Sebastian spooning her, much needed sleep overtook her.

They managed to leave early the next day, anticipation for what lied on the path unnerving her to the point of skipping breakfast. Her stomach unsettled at the thought of finding the ashes, of what came after. When would Sebastian leave her? The first town? That night?

Maker, was he always so distracting when they traveled together before? Her eyes drifted over to him on several occasions then toward his waist as flashbacks from two nights before trickled into her mind. The collar of her cloak grew hot as she reminisced, wondering if it might happen again as he caught her staring yet again, a knowing grin on his stupid face.

The altar loomed ahead, no mistaking the highest cliff of the Storm Coast. Sebastian checked the map again before they started up.

Her hand found his halfway up the bluff, reassurance where she needed it. She kept her expressions neutral as they climbed, the end drawing closer with each emboldened step. What awaited for her there, at the top?

Her heart hammered in her chest as they reached the crest of the climb, her grip on his hand so firm that she thought his fingers might be numb. And when she saw nothing, she released it, rushing forward to investigate the scene.

“This is the right spot, isn’t it? Check the map.” When Sebastian didn’t move, she darted back over, grabbing at his cloak to try and find his pocket. “ _Check_ the map, Bas.”  

He clutched her wrist, dragging her hand away from him. “Stop, breathe.”

“The ashes are supposed to _be_ here.” Her voice cracked under the strain of the emotion welling up inside her, eyes watering as she twisted to break free. “The Avvar said-”

“Breathe, Pidge.” He stepped past her, shoulder knocking into hers as he neared the top. “We’ll search the area. The augur said beneath the altar, aye? We’re not exactly under anything.” He walked forward, scanning the area while she sulked, arms crossed as she followed. “Does that boulder look right to you?” He pointed to where a large one sat a short distance away, nothing around it to anchor it to the area.

Careful of a trap, they wandered over to it, curiosity piqued. Hope fluttered in her chest as she neared, the makings of a hole underneath it. Her powers rolled it off the entrance, where it bounded further down the mountainside, crashing into trees and bushes.

Sebastian peered into the darkness of the hole, big enough for them to step into. She couldn’t gauge the depth or for how long it went, only that it did. “I’d say this is it.” He held out a hand. “Pigeons first.”

She snapped her fingers, fire burning from the ends. “You just don’t want to run into any more spiders.” Lit fingers in front of her, she grabbed onto his hand to keep her steady as she stepped into the hole.

“Your magic works better with them, what can I say?” He grinned as he lowered her in, dropping to the ground to make sure his arm reached enough for her feet to land on something solid.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the only sources of light her fire and the grey coming from her entrance. She glanced up at Sebastian’s head blocking out a share of the light. “You coming?”

“Are we going to be able to get out?”

She spread her fire out in a circle, illuminating the small cavern room. Cobwebs hung from all the corners, some catching from close contact with her magic. In a corner of the room, she spotted an old wooden ladder, tall enough to reach the opening. “You’ll be fine,” she called. “Come down, you pansy.”

He grumbled before jumping down to join her in the darkness. A sconce rested beside the ladder, and she grabbed it, lighting it and handing it off to Sebastian. “There, now you can defend yourself if any bugs attack.”

He frowned, knocking his elbow into her as he accepted the sconce. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be down here longer than I have to.”

“Do you want to hold my hand in case you get scared,” she teased.

“Maybe not your hand,” he goaded, grabbing her behind as she shrieked with laughter, jumping ahead.

“My backside isn’t open for holding, thank you. The hand offer still stands though.” She proceeded deeper into the cavern, into a narrow cut-off from the main section where they entered. She threw flame in front of her, clearing cobwebs out of their way. Sebastian practically pressed against her with all the distance he left between them, his bravado a thin mask for his fear.

She couldn’t feel afraid, not with the ashes so close. This had to be it, anticipation thrumming under her skin as they moved further in, closer to the Urn.

Sebastian tugged on her hair. She whirled to snap at him, but the serious expression on his face stayed her tongue. “I think there’s something on the walls.” He touched the sconce to the walls, the thick cobwebs coating them lighting up as they raced forward and back, flaking off in flammable chunks.

His fingers grazed one of the images that lines the walls, a rough painting of Andraste in rudimentary designs, but Andraste nonetheless. Kalea would recognize her portrait anywhere, the elf ears confirming her suspicions. Andraste was surrounded by fire on a stake, just like history preached.

Kalea moved onto the next painting, Mafareth with a bear’s head making a deal with a magister, an angry red slash through the Tevinter’s face.

Sebastian gazed with childlike wonder at the paintings around them, a rough story of Andraste’s life. Kalea’s eyes darted from him to further down the corridor. She took off running, her fire flaring ahead of her as she pushed herself, ignoring his shouts behind her. The ashes were here, she found them, she could save her father. She’d take them home and her family would forgive her. Her happiness existed at the end of these paintings, and nothing was going to hold her back from it, _nothing_.

She sprinted into the small room at the end, her fire sweeping forward in a wave as she halted, feet skidding in the dirt.  

A hopeless wail escaped her throat as she looked upon the single stone pillar in the room, her knees buckling under her as she hit the ground, the jostling reawakening the pain in her back. Shuddering cries left her sobbing with her forehead pressed to the floor as the last bit of hope trickled out of her.

Atop the pillar, where the ashes were so clearly supposed to be, sat emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More headcanons! You can't tell me that a mage doesn't have some kind of magical over-spill during orgasms. You can't. I don't believe it. 
> 
> Also, you thought this was a happy story? Oh no, you don't know me at all. But to be fair, I'm operating off the fact that Malcolm does dies in the canon, as I've been making this as close to canon as possible, soo..... I'm curious how many people thought she might actually find the Urn. Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?


	13. Act Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s nice to have you back, Pidge. Sincerely.”_

Kalea stopped sheltering them from the rain since they restarted their trek, the majority of her energy spent on getting out of her tent for the day. A week passed in this manner, progress inland slowed by the foul weather and her sluggish steps. The constant downpour sent chills through to her bones that no fire could warm, living in a perpetual state of sogginess as the storm raged on around them.

The inn’s lantern shone like a beacon in the existential dark mist that comprised the outskirts of the Storm Coast.

“We should go in,” Sebastian shouted through the torrential storm, reaching through the curtain of rain to wrap an arm around her shoulder, angling her toward the building.

Her eyes swept the pock-marks in the mud, hoof prints that puddled as the water sought to erase them. She let him steer her despite her preference for the outdoors. The thought of strangers didn’t appeal even if it led to a dry surface to sleep on.

Sebastian held the door open, the sound of raucous laughter from inside the tavern striking her ears. She winced at the commotion, shrinking back to glance over her shoulder back into the gloom. “I don’t want to be here,” she murmured.

Sebastian shook the rain out of his hair, some of the droplets smacking her already damp face. “Warm food, a dry bed? Come on, Pidge. You have to find that somewhat enticing.”

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled as she wiped her face with the edge of her cloak.

He frowned, his disapproval about her recent lack of appetite set in his expression. He gave it every time she refused a meal. “This isn’t up for debate, lass. We’re staying.” He guided them to the bar where he struck up a conversation with the innkeeper as Kalea’s eyes wandered over the patrons, a mild curiosity at those who sought respite from the storm.

Three young women appeared out of place in their dry clothes and giggling painted faces, a stark contrast to the scarred men with calloused hands who ogled them from their place at the bar. Kalea groaned in disgust at the blatant flirtation, her attention shifting onto two well-dressed older men drinking at a private table. With the way they flaunted their coin at the tavern wench, she bet their purses would be stolen before night’s end, most likely by her own companion.

A small hooded courier sat nearest to Kalea, grumbling to himself. His damp clothes and muddy boots suggested he, too, recently arrived. She leaned in, eavesdropping on his mutterings. “Damn woman, sendin’ me ‘ere. ‘Ow‘m I suppose to find ‘er kid out in this bloody mess?”

Fingers swept across her arm as her attention drew away from the man. “We got the last room.” When her eyes returned to the messenger, Sebastian tugged on her arm. “Pidge?”

“Give me a second,” she said, shaking off his hand and ignoring the curious quirk of his eyebrows as she slid onto the stool next to the courier. The man’s eyes flicked up to assess her before turning back to his drink. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Whatcha want?”  

“The child you’re looking for, is their name Kalea?” It was a long shot, but worth asking, her pulse quickening with the posted question. Could it be-?

The man’s eyes widened as he gave her a slow nod. “Of all the stupid, blind luck. Is dat you? Kalea? Some bird for a last name?”

She couldn’t find her voice as the room began to spin around her, her knuckles turning pale as she gripped the countertop with all her strength. When the man presented the letter from his pack, Sebastian snatched it from the courier’s hands as he dragged her off the stool, hand secure on her arm. “The lass says thanks,” he growled, tossing the man a few coins before herding her up the stairs and into their rented room.

He sat her in one of the armchairs in the room as he took a knee in front of her, lifting her chin with his knuckle to meet his unwavering gaze. “It might not be what you think it is, Pidge. You’re assuming the worst.” She couldn’t respond, her tongue so large in her mouth that words felt clumsy, impossible to form. “I can read it first, if that would help,” he added in her silence.

She remained a statue, knowing that the slightest movement might result in a rush of tears, the ones she usually saved for when her and Sebastian left for their separate tents at night. He waited to the best of his ability before drawing back to take a dagger to the wax seal. Fear struck her as she studied his face while he read to himself, waiting for the smallest inflection of emotion, something to demonstrate her worst fears.

Instead, he sighed and held out the letter in her direction. “It’s not good, but it’s not what you think. He’s still alive.”

She let out a shaky breath as her body trembled with relief. Nearly knocking him over, she jumped out of her seat to read over the letter.

 

_“My dearest daughter,_

_The Templars have finally discovered us in Highever. We received warning days ahead and managed to take most of our belongings, but this trip will surely be your father’s last, we cannot afford to move him again given his current state. He’s taken to the carriage with our belongings, even a horse too much for him to handle._

_When you decide to come home, head to Lothering. Your father has a contact there who says the bann tends to be lenient toward mages. We will start our lives over once more. I have included directions to find the new homestead below. Return to us soon, Lea. We miss you._

_Your loving mother”_

 

“Thank the Maker,” she sobbed as she fell to her knees, the letter floating from her loose grasp to land the floor beside her. “Thank the _fucking_ Maker.” She glanced up at Sebastian through her tears of relief. “They’re okay. All of them, they’re okay.” A few more tears rolled down her cheeks before she reached up to wipe them away.

“You won’t be much longer if you keep those wet clothes on, Pidge.” He helped her to her feet, strong hands lifting her by her shoulders. Nimble fingers tucked her stringy hair behind her ear before he nuzzled the now exposed side of her neck. “Let me warm you up,” he purred as he ushered her closer to the active hearth.

She struggled to break away from his hold, stepping back with a hardened scowl before her eyes spotted the bathtub steaming in front of the fire. “Oh,” she said, her defenses dropping at the sight of it. “That’s not … I thought you meant something different.”

He smirked as he shrugged off his cloak, draping it over the back of one of the armchairs. “We can do that, too.”

She shook her head as she hung up her cloak on the rack by the door. “No thank you.” She sat her pack down by the bottom of the rack, digging around inside. Brush in hand, she began the arduous task of unknotting her ratty hair.

Sebastian stripped by the fire, though his eyes strayed to her with each piece of clothing he hung to dry. He shimmied in his hips when he caught her observing. Stopped at his smallclothes, he choose to stretch himself out in front of the hearth like a cat soaking up its warmth. “Pigeons first,” he yawned as he laid flat on his back, leering in her direction as she continued to brush through her hair.

“Right, so you can watch like a lech?” She noted the flash of starvation in his eyes at the implication, the deliberate way he licked his lips while appraising her rumpled and muddy frame. “How about you go down to the tavern and chase a skirt or drink some ale, whatever it is you do?”

“I’m quite comfortable here, lass,” he hummed, making another show of stretching along the floor as his back arched in the air. “Unless you’d prefer company in the water.” He smirked as he rolled with his back to the fire, positioning himself to where she caught just the beginning of pubic tuft at the border of his waistband. “I wouldn’t want you to get lonely in there.”

“I think I’ll manage.” She untucked her shirt as she shot a harsh glare in his direction. “Turn around, you cretin. At least pretend to have some decency.”

His sigh contained an air of defeat as he rolled over with back to her. She began to undress in full, careful with the elimination of each article of clothing and piece of armor in case her companion snuck a peek.

But he respected her request enough to let her ease into the blessed waters before leaning back, his fire-lit eyes catching hers. “Don’t take too long. That water needs to warm the both of us.”

An unforced smile pulled at her lips, a forgotten feeling from the murky days since they turned toward home. She roared the fire in front of him, causing him to thump back against the tub in surprise. “Mage, remember?”

His head tilted up to see her smile, his own forming at the sight of it. It felt natural, almost right, the two of them like this, a momentary reprieve from the storm and her complicated feelings that awaited her in Lothering. She splashed a little water over the rim of the tub, the shout that followed rippling laughter like water.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he growled as he worked to right himself. Hs gaze skimmed the reflections of the water, no doubt attempting to see beneath it. A mischievous grin overtook her face as she drew up the water and flicked it into his face, cackling at his soured expression as he wiped the water away.

“That’s it, Pidge, I’m coming in.” He rose, despite her protesting, stripping off the rest of his clothing before stepping into the tub.

She obliged the intrusion, scooting against the opposite edge as he struggled to fit himself in with her, their bathwater spilling over the edges with the additional weight. She scrunched her knees into her chest as he mirrored her position, minus the glowering at her relaxing bath growing cramped. “I don’t like this,” she muttered, resting her chin on her knees, careful not to lose more water past the rim.

“That’s cause we’re doing this wrong.” His hands teased the back of her calves as his gaze bore into her. “You’re supposed to be on my lap.”

“On your lap is it, Bas?” She quirked an eyebrow as she observed the wicked smile that bloomed on his lips. She didn’t know how she felt about sex between them again, though a distraction from their travels and her recent dampened mood was most welcome. And just once didn’t seem enough to her, not with him, not when this partnership of theirs seemed to be drawing to a close.

“Just come here,” he hissed, spreading his legs apart as more of the bath splashed onto the floor, arms attempting to tug her forward. _The poor innkeepers forced to clean up Sebastian’s mess_ , her brow furrowed as she pondered their reaction to all the water stains on the hardwood. Perhaps he should've requested a bigger tub when he ordered a bath drawn with the room.

She scooted so that her back faced him, her rear snug between his thighs. The position granted a broader range of movement; she found she didn’t mind sharing like this. She remained upright, leaning over the edge of the tub until she found the soap and cloth for washing she brought over from her pack. Lathering the cloth, she scrubbed down one arm, the water murking with the mixture of suds and mud.

Sebastian’s fingers stilled her wrist as the other stole the cloth from her grasp. “Let me,” he said.

She could feel his erection settle against her spine as he leaned forward to drag the cloth down her arm, scrubbing in small circles. He kneaded into her muscles as a breathy sigh passed her lips, her eyes fluttering closed as she fell back into his chest. With careful consideration, he massaged using the cloth until her arm almost glistened compared to the rest of her. He stopped to rinse and lather the cloth again before tending to her other arm, then shifted his focus to her legs, giving special attention to her thighs. She arched into him, spreading her legs further apart as he scrubbed at her inner thighs, his touch softening when it reached the junction of her hips.

She expected him to bait her, push for more, but he skimmed over her mound, traveling up under her navel instead, perhaps a tease to get her hot and bothered by his tending. It worked; the lack of attention to her more sensitive areas only intensified her yearning for that intimate touch. The absence of his more personal regard left her more flustered than if he did wash her there.

He positioned her forward as he worked over her shoulders to her back. Pushing aside her hair, he hesitated, fingers skating down her spine. “Does it still hurt?”

She assumed he meant the bruises from the giant. “Barely” she mumbled, still in her state of restful bliss. When his fingers started moving in a circular pattern, she knew he was tracing the outline of her tattoos, one of many that led along her spine.The motion sent pleasant chills over her body, the hair on her arms standing at each wispy touch.

“I never took you to be the tattoo type.”

“They’re wards, against demons.”

The cloth scratched at her skin as he resumed washing. “I thought the pendant did that?”

“Different demons have different wards.” Maker, she could fall asleep like this, knees drawn up to her chest as Sebastian’s steady hand glided down her back, lulling her into a trance-like state. When did she last let herself feel this relaxed?

He raked his fingers through her hair, splaying it down her back as he lathered her hair against the bar of soap, working it through to the ends of her hair before he repositioned her against his chest. Her shoulders barely broke the surface of the water as her hair floated around them. He massaged the suds into her scalp, soft sighs of contentment filtering past her lips as she closed her eyes. She was absolute putty in his expert hands, though she’d be damned if she would admit it.

Cupping his hands, he doused water over her scalp. She giggled as she slid back up his chest, straightening her back as she floated water to pour over her own head. “Benefits to being a mage.”

“Aye, but I wished to do it. You’ve ruined it. Now, I have to start everything over.” He bent his head, nipping her shoulder as his hand located the washcloth once more, free hand picking up her arm to hold up as he set out to scrub at it again.

She pulled back, making a grab for the cloth. “It’s my turn to wash you if you’re just going to repeat yourself.”

He held it up in the air, water droplets dripping onto the crown of her head. “Who said I was finished? There are still some areas that required my attention.”

He brushed the fabric around her neck, his patient care spanning from shoulder to shoulder as the movement lowered toward her chest. She bit her lip in anticipation, grateful for the fact that he couldn’t see her face.

Her nipples hardened as he neared, a chuckle rising from behind her as he swirled the cloth over her areolas. The harsh sensation unleashed a whimper as she reached out to grasp the sides of the tub.

“You know …” he whispered as his movements slowed, circling her nipple as his free hand wandered to rest on the inside of her thigh. “I’ve yet to test out my theory about your magic.”

There was no denying him. Her brain fogged by arousal, she widened her legs to welcome his advances. But he rose, the sudden lack of his body heat leaving her chilled as he stepped out of the tub. Her cheeks burned as her gaze moved over his naked frame. Water cascaded over his bare flesh in rivets as he jutted his hip out, his erect member bouncing with the movement. She ducked into the tub, hiding her face in her knees to cover her embarrassment. The sight bewitched her, the firelight lending its beauty as he glistened before her.

“To me, Pidge.” He held out his hand, waiting as she glanced up at it before shifting her eyes back down into the water. She peered into his face again, a restrained lust in his gaze. A mirror of her own, one she wished nothing more than to explore.

In shaky movements, she climbed to her feet. The air raised goosebumps over her bare skin, or maybe that was the carnal desire in his slow appraisal. Wetting his lips, his gaze eventually rose to her face.

She covered her chest, uncomfortable in her nakedness as she stepped toward him, out of the tub. He hummed, a smirk playing off his lips. “No need to be shy, Pigeon. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He closed the distance between them, a hand brushing her hip before anchoring there as he held her gaze. His nose brushed hers as his eyes flicked down to her lips. “Say it,” he said in a husky voice.

“Say what?” she managed to rasp out. His scent drifted between them, damp earth and the sharp smell of storms; she closed her eyes, letting it fill her lungs as her hands threatened to uncurl and fold themselves into the curly hair on his chest.

“Tell me you want me.” His words bristled on her lips as his other hand skimmed down her back, settling in the shallow curve above her rear.

“I wouldn’t have let you share my bath if I didn’t.”

“I want to hear you say it,” he said, his fingers digging into her waist.

She met his gaze. Her voice did not waver when she whispered, “I want you.”

“Aye, tell me how much. I want to hear you beg for me.”

She flustered, but held his gaze. “Please, Bas. I need you to keep me warm tonight.”

He teased her with a kiss, withdrawing as she opened her mouth to deepen it. “That’s hardly begging,” he chided as the hand on her back adjusted to wrap in her hair. Taking control of her head, he tipped it back to nuzzle her neck. “We’ll have to work on improving your technique.” He lightly bit her chin before those nips descended along the column of her neck.

She huffed at his implication, annoyed with his efforts to toy with her. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He ignored her, instead replying back with, “You smell good.” He drew her to his damp chest, his erection snug between their bodies.

In a moment of wicked inspiration, she uncrossed her arms, her fingers finding the head of his mast and gingerly running over the top of it, eliciting a drawn-out moan and shudder from him. He let go of her hair as he nipped at her shoulder. She recognized the shift of power as she continued, him leaning into her as he maintained a tight grip on her hips, small hitches in his breathing as she swirled her fingers over his sensitive flesh before thumbing the ridge. She kept her attention on his face to gauge his expression, observing which motions garnered the most vibrant responses.

She liked this, the control it gave her over him, her ability to shut him up with a simple touch. She tempted fate with her newfound confidence, ordering him to lay down on the floor as she caressed the length of his shaft.  

He complied with no comment. She took a seat between his knees, an insatiable urge to test out this new dynamic. “Tell me you want me,” she mimicked his playful tone, staring into his eyes as she thumbed his head. A spasm shot through his muscles.

“Minx,” he growled.

“Wrong answer,” she said, her other hand reaching out to cup his balls. She rolled one between her thumb and index finger, prompting a fervor in the way Sebastian shifted into her touch. His nails scraped across the wood of the floors as he hissed in his foreign tongue. She paused in her exploration to repeat her demand.

This time he complied. “Fuck, I want you.”

She grinned, her teeth catching her lower lip. “Tell me how much. Beg for me. Show me how it’s done.”

“Let me taste you again, what I did to you,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you till you come on my tongue, fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to move without remembering how I felt inside you.” He reached for her; she swatted his hand away. A blush scorched over her skin at his blatant vulgarity.

“Maker, even after a bath, you manage to remain filthy.” She toyed with his sack while her other fingers gripped him. She worked on producing groans from him as she began a slow stroke, enticing delirium that flickered across his features as he lost control over himself.

Another devious idea entered her mind; she rose to her knees as she shifted her weight forward. Her elbows dug into his thighs. A brutal choke of breath sprung from his chest as she flicked her tongue at the head of his erection.

She loosened her grasp to lick down his shaft; his back arched off the floor as he sucked in a deep breath. His fingers scratched at her scalp as his hands tugged her hair. She untangled them and pinned them to the floor. His fingers wove between hers as she leaned in again, her nose brushing his bush as she burrowed her face in him, sucking as the base of his shaft as he rocked his hips up into her.

“Stop teasing,” he growled between strangled breaths.

“I need to _improve my technique_ , remember?” Her eyes sparkled in good humor as she licked her way to his tip to wrap her mouth around him. He stifled a moan as his rear clenched from the suction her lips created. She bobbed her head, listening to his panting as she slid him further into her mouth.

He broke free of one of her hands, grabbing her hair and yanking her back. “On, now,” he demanded.

She shot him a defiant look. “Or you’ll what?” To prove her point, her free hand fondled his sack, an aggravated grunt coming from his mouth. “Maybe next time, you’ll learn not to insult me if you want me.”

She liked this unfurled side to him, more so that she in all her inexperience could make him quiver under her curious touch. She released him, intrigued to discover where other touches might coax similar reactions.

Her fingertips trailed up across the lithe muscles of his stomach as she scanned his face for more hints of pleasure. She mirrored the spots he teased her with, light brushes over the inside of his thighs, nips along his sides as she seared hot kisses toward his face. She took her time tantalizing each area before moving on. Her hands returned on occasion to his twitching shaft to maintain his interest.

When she reached his face, he stared at her behind a reserved expression. “Are you finished exploring, lass, or should I allow you more time?”

“How thoughtful of you,” she teased as she tilted her mouth toward his, tongue flicking at his lips. “I didn't realize you gracing me with such selfless consideration.”

She set an even tempo in her strokes as she lowered herself for a kiss, taking charge as her tongue delved into his mouth. In response, he lifted his rear off the ground, driving himself further and faster in her hand. She hooked her knee over his as she moved to lay beside him. Her free hand ran through his hair as she alternated kissing and biting his lips, enjoying the breathy moans he breathed into her mouth when she touched certain ways.

Drunk with power, she missed the subtle shifts Sebastian made as he struggled to regain the original dynamic. He angled his hips, his hands skimming down her curves as his free leg rested against the one hooked to his. By the time she took notice, he rolled them over, pinning her to the floor. His grin turned wicked, and fire lit his carnivorous gaze.

“Enough play time,” he growled. Biting her bottom lip, he pulled it with his teeth as he grabbed his shaft, sliding it through her folds while she squirmed under him. An impassioned gasp escaped her mouth as he circled her swollen clit with his tip. Her nails tore into his back before threading into his hair while she writhed.

“Who’s playing now?” Her voice rasped with desperation. She chewed the corner of her lip as he teased her, small whimpers hiding in her chest.

He hummed as he licked the swell of her breast, tongue traveling from one to the other in a spit-drawn line across her heated skin. “I like the idea of you on top,” he mused as he nipped her hardened bud. Her breath hitched at the delicious sensation. “Riding my cock, tits in my face.” He shifted his lower self to stretch her entrance, a needy whine leaving her throat. “Think you can handle that, Pidge?”

Despite the obvious challenge, she detected a note of concern in his tone as he nuzzled her neck, sucking on the skin as his mouth drew lower and lower, back toward her chest. “Mmm, and be in charge again? Think your fragile ego can handle that?” She tsked and smooshed his cheeks when he lifted his head to her jest, craning her neck to deliver a chaste kiss on his puckered lips.

He purred when she released his face, capturing her mouth for a more sensual kiss that stole the very breath from her lungs. “Power hungry pigeon indeed.” He nipped at her chin as he rolled them back to their original position, pulling her atop him.

She wiggled to hover above his chest, a building anticipation in both her lower region and her chest. She rose to meet his dare without thinking the logistics through about how this position actually … worked. She chewed her lip as she reached behind her, gripping his shaft as she brought her chest forward, tilting her hips back.

Sebastian chuckled, grabbing her sides to halt her progress. “Let me assist.”

She nodded, thankful for his aid without having to ask for it. His hands shifted to her back where he tapped his fingers along her spine. “Straighten up.”

She rose to her original sitting position, waiting for his next direction. His hands skimmed down over her rear, stopping to pinch. She yelped, shooting him a dirty look, which only brought a faked innocence to hs countenance. She wasn’t fooled by the display, taking a moment to swoop down and steal a kiss. He pinched again, a soft mewl on his lips as his hands continued to the backs of her knees. He drummed his fingers on the sensitive skin. “Knees down.”

She obeyed, knees lowering to the floor on either side of him as she continued to straddle him. His hands slithered up her inner thighs, worming their way under her to rest beneath her rear. “Lift.”

She straightened her knees, hovering over him as he let go of her with one hand and wiggled his hips along the floor, the head of his erection directed to press against her entrance. One hand around his shaft, the other helping to hold her up, he scanned her face for reassurance, finding only her confliction and hesitation.

“Do you need me to do it? Tell me what you need, Kalea.”

She reached under her and chased his hand away from his shaft, her own closing around it as she hefted a long exhale before beginning her descent. Her passage opened up under her gentle descent down his long shaft. Her eyes squeezed shut as elation prickled under her skin the further she sank onto him. His hands groped for her breasts with a wanton grunt.

When her bottom came to rest firm against the tops of his thighs, she stilled a moment to catch her breath and relish the sensation as she pulsated around him.

Sebastian’s hands dug into her sides, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Your cunny feels fucking magic, so tight around my cock.”

She opened her eyes, peering into her salacious companion’s face. He gave a tiny flick of his hips; a greedy sob fell from her lips as she steadied herself by grabbing his shoulders.

“You set the pace,” he informed.

She tested out this new position by circling her hips, thrilling in his starved moans as the movement left a sizzling impression in her core. A slow rock scorched her skin, the same time that the fire in the hearth roared up.

Sebastian glanced over at it, a cheeky grin spreading on his lips. “Don’t say it,” she warned, locking a finger over his lips.

He nipped at the pad, opening his mouth. “This is going to prove fun,” he teased as one of the hands journeyed down to caress at her folds.

A desperate, filthy noise broke free from her chest. She rocked harder this time, the fire beside them matching the sizzling under her skin. Her hand circled his wrist as she dragged it back to her breast. “My pace, remember?”

To prove her point, she rolled her rear with a shimmy of her hips, a vindictive glint to her smile as his fingers dug into her with a low moan in his throat. She raised herself up his shaft before slamming back down, a pleased cry breaking free of her lips as she struggled to figure out what pace she preferred.

The fire embedded in her skin yearned for hard, fast, and sweaty, both of them losing themselves in the throes of passion. But she also liked the slow pace, watching the ripples of pleasure wash over him like high tide. She craved the control it offered her, over him, over her own orgasm.

She rose again, twisting her lower half as she slid back down in deliberate agony over the tempo. He massaged her breasts in an attempt to increase her speed. Seeking purchase on the slippery floor, he forgot his offer to relinquish control, thrusting up into her with increasing speed.  Fervent heat pooled in her core as he buried himself inside her, deeper each time with the momentum their bodies created.

His hands slid down, one taking to her folds once more as the other dug into her backside. Her pants turned into choked sobs as she bent toward him, intent on capturing his lips as the fire in the hearth roared in response to his touch.

He shook his head as his eyes flickered up from where they were joined to her face. “No, let me see you cum, I want to watch it take you.”

Her tempo increased as she drove herself down harder with more abandon, her nails digging into his shoulder as her body flared against him, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she let out a shattering, broken scream. The dam in her core broke and she oozed around his pumping member, his own wordless howl following hers shortly after.

She fell onto his chest in exhaustion, offering kisses and nibbles as she fought to catch her breath. A crackle to the left of her drew her attention away from his reddened face as she glanced at the source.

The drapes by the window roared with the same intensity as the fire in the hearth. “Shit!” She maneuvered him out of her and stumbled over with jellied legs, drawing up the bathwater to douse the flames. A roar of laughter echoed from the floor as the curtain rod broke, smashing to the floor with mud for drapes.

She scowled to hide her frustration over her body’s involuntary reaction, strolling back over to Sebastian’s naked frame and laying beside him, tucking herself into the crook of his arm. “It’s not funny,” she grumbled.

“Aw, don’t get embarrassed, Pidge. It’s a compliment, really, having you lose control like that.” His knuckle tucked under her chin and he tilted her lips up for a long kiss. “I like it,” he husked while his lips pecked over her heated face.

“I don’t,” she huffed, her fingers caressing the soft hair on his chest as her stomach rumbled. She ducked her head, her cheeks sparking at her body’s other natural response.

“Want me to grab us food from downstairs?” His body stiffened against hers, awaiting her response.

Her stomach grumbled again, hunger returning to her with a vengeance. She nodded shyly, surprised when a smile bloomed on his face. Without saying anything, he jumped up, stooping down to drag her into his arms. He nuzzled her face when she wrapped her arms around his neck. She held tight as he took careful steps toward the bed.

“Do you want me to get you anything in particular?”

When she shook her head, he threw her onto the bed. She shrieked, attempting to kick out her legs at him at the sudden roughhousing. He only laughed, stilling her legs with his grip and dragging her rear to the edge of the bed. “Stay here, like this. Don’t move until I return with a feast.” He bent his head, pressing a kiss into her stomach. “You’ll be dessert.”

He nipped at the tender flesh around her navel before standing upright, a smirk on his lips. While she watched him dress to head down to the tavern, her chest swelled with the whispers of emotion, more foreign than her hunger or the lost language of his tongue in the heat of sex. She bit her tongue and stayed her heart, choosing instead to admire the lithe muscles of his body, how striking they became when firelight danced off him.

 

* * *

 

The morning light spread through the room like molasses as Kalea’s eyelids fluttered gently against it. Her vision filled with the handsome sleeping mug of her companion. Her mouth grazed his shoulder as she relished the tangle of their limbs, his shallow breathing blowing across her cheeks, his arms keeping her close to him. Dawn crept across his face, igniting his tousled auburn hair and long eyelashes with the sun’s fire. She chewed on her lip as she fought not to grin at the mesmerizing sight. The serenity he gifted her with the previous night lingered, the musky smell of their sex mingling with the sharp scent of fire and cinder, leftover from the random items around the room she set aflame mid-orgasm as Sebastian delivered her again and again throughout the night. Her body ached, his promise true as she shifted her hips, the sensation of him inside her still present in the new day’s afterglow.

The peace wouldn’t last forever, though she wished for nothing more than to stay there in bed with him, never needing anything but one another as they spent the rest of their lives in each other’s embrace. But she knew her desire to be foolish, similar to her growing feelings. She chose this, she had no one to blame but herself. Just as she knew it to be wiser to distance herself, let there be nothing to miss in his absence.

_Dear Maker, let me have this one thing._

With a slow precision, she withdrew from him, shaking off a lonely chill as she sat upright. Her toes skimmed the cold floor. She knew Sebastian still slumbered, otherwise hands would have grabbed her to drag her back against his chest, locking her there despite her kicking feet and feverous wiggling. Regardless, she spared a glance behind her, her fingers aching to brush the hair from his eyes. She resisted the urge and rose to her feet.

A low, pleasurable moan filled her chest as the mere act of walking reminded her just how deep his thrusts into her went the night before. She stretched her muscles as she hobbled over to where their clothing hung to dry, though still not completely there. She wrinkled her nose and moved away, choosing instead to root through her pack for a fresh shirt, or some other article of clothes to chase away the nippy morning air as she drifted around the room.

She knew she needed to write to Brother Genitivi as she promised, let him know that the lead he gave so freely ended up being nothing more than a dead end. The letter would sour her mood, of that she harbored little doubt, perhaps for the rest of the now longer trip home.

She slid into the chair in front of the desk, the wood freezing her bare bottom as she bit back an expression of surprise as to not wake the sleeping rogue. She gathered the supplies provided by the inn and set to work, detailing out her travels and leaving Sebastian out of it. She chuckled as she relived the Temple of Shartan with its spiders, the wail that announced her companion’s fears. Blushing, she recalled their first kiss in Stone-Bear Hold, blocking her thoughts from continuing on with the following events. At the Storm Coast, she paused, eyes watering as she struggled to come up with the words to describe the nothingness in the cavern.

Arms folded around her shoulders, a kiss laying on her crown before Sebastian shifted, digging his chin into her head. “And here I thought we might enjoy a morning in bed for once. Wrong again, I see.” He leaned against her back, pushing her forward while he read over her shoulder. As his eyes skimmed the parchment, he stiffened, his back straightening as he snatched the letter to read it more closely.

His eyes turned back to her when he concluded. “I can finish this for you later,” he said, not even needing to look at her face to recognize the dilemma. He picked at the sleeve on her arm, tugging it up as he bent his head and pressed a kiss onto her knuckles. “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished and I know _exactly_ what my body’s craving.” His arms slipped under her knees as he hoisted her up to his chest, a wolfish smile on his face as he carried her over to the bed.

After dropping her, scooting her rear to the edge as he threw her legs over his shoulders, she propped herself up on her elbows, squeezing her thighs together to refuse him access. “I need to finish it now, while I still have the nerve.”

“Let me,” he said, though whether he referred to getting between her thighs or the unpleasantness of the letter, she couldn’t be certain.

She shook her head, righting herself to a sitting position as he stayed kneeled between her legs, their gazes not breaking contact. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, truly.” She pushed a hand through his hair. “But this is my burden that I carry. I can’t allow myself to pass that onto you or allow you to protect me like you have been. Though don’t think me ungrateful.” She slid her legs down to dangle between them.

As she stood, he jumped to his feet, drawing her in for a breathless kiss, the kind that left her knees trembling.

“What was that for?”

He leaned his forehead against hers as he ran a hand down her back. “It’s nice to have you back, Pidge. Sincerely.” He captured her mouth again, his words inspiring a longing in her as she held him to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's beginning to look a lot like DA2....


	14. Act Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Fly back to me, Pigeon.”_

The worst part of letting someone in, Kalea thought as she lazily raked her nails down Sebastian’s arm, a post-coital tinting to their cheeks, was the eventual leaving of that someone. And Sebastian, as annoying as he got at times, made that impending absence difficult to process, but it gave her something to focus on, drawing her attentions away from the disappointment of her family.

It helped get her by the past few weeks of their travel, the distraction of sex, the scent of him penetrating her dreams at night as she laid tangled in his arms, sleep growing more difficult to accomplish with each passing night. He felt it too, a fervor entering into their passion as it grew harder to tear away from one another each morning.

And now she fended off sleep like so many nights before, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion that accompanied their fourth go-round for the evening, each round slower and more deliberate than the last. They shared the reasoning that no sleep equaled no tomorrow, and no tomorrow meant no Lothering. They camped less than a day’s travel away from the hamlet, which meant the end neared, one she no longer wished to see pass.

Sebastian pinched her rear, earning a sharp glare from her. “What was that for?”

“You went away again.” The hand on her backside moved to skate across her cheek, brushing aside some of the hair that fell in front of her face. “Fly back to me, Pigeon.”

She apologized, offering him a lingering kiss as compensation. “You know I can’t help it.”

“Stop thinking about it.” Determination shone through his even tone, though the sad tinge to his eyes fooled no one, least of all her. He brought her back for another kiss, prolonging each as he dispersed smooches across her face. She closed her eyes,  _only for the moment_ , she swore as she relished each one.

Maybe it was the weariness in her soul from days of anxiety that built inside her, or perhaps the tiredness of her brain, but she asked, “What if we camped here for an extra night?”

An unspoken promise existed between them to not do this, not to beg like she was, to not try to compromise on their situation.

“Pidge, it’s only prolonging the inevitable.”

She huffed at his condescending tone. “What’s the harm in one more day? Are you that eager to leave?”

A low growl started in his chest as his eyes shot daggers at her. “I know you’re hurting, but shut up before you say something you regret.”

She matched his growl but backed down, a heavy sigh sinking her chest as she brushed her knuckles across the sprinkling of hair on his chest. “One more day is all I’m asking, Bas. Then we can go deal with our families.”

He rolled his eyes, the glare in them softening. “One more day turns into three more, then it’s a week later and we’re still here, avoiding our responsibilities.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of petulant child.” She drew back to sit up, glaring down at his stiffened frame under the mesh of blankets.

“Then don’t act like it. You knew what this was.”

She reeled away, his words stinging like a slap across the face. She threw her clothes back on in a hurry, sans underwear, as she fought off the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

His hand stayed her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” she snapped, yanking her hand back as she ducked under the tent flaps. The storm she created earlier hung in the air, gearing up for her spiking emotions as the thunder rumbled, lighting crackling just above her head.

_You knew what this was._

And yet her foolish heart hoped for more, that he considered it more than just another of his flings. She, in her stupid optimism, dreamed she meant something to him, that maybe she wasn’t alone in this tug on her heart.

She heard the shuffle of the tent opening behind her, stomps across the space to where she stood. Arms locked over her chest, a kiss pecking the back of her neck. “Don’t run away again. I know how you get when you’re upset.”

“I don’t know how you can remain so cruel about this.” She shoved him off but remained facing away from him as the clouds started to trickle down, a slight gurgle of thunder cutting off any further reply she planned.

“You knew where this ended and you came to me anyway, remember? I was fine with letting things die down between us, but you came to  _me_ and said you wanted this. How does that make me the cruel one?" He sighed, half-turning his body toward the tent. "I don’t want to fight, not tonight. Can we go back inside, Pidge? Please?”

Lightning struck off to the far right of her as her anger and hurt built up, bitter hot tears streaking down her cheeks as the clouds opened above their heads, soaking the world around her. She turned to face him. “I think about you leaving, and it hurts, Sebastian. I know I said I was okay with it, but I’m not. I’m not.”

“What do you want me to say?” He appeared as lost as she felt, the rain giving him a ghoulish look as if drowned in her emotions. She felt it, the struggle to stay afloat in the ensuing storm, her magic mimicking her inner turmoil.

“Tell me you’ll stay! Tell me this trip hasn’t been a complete waste! I can’t lose you and go home and watch my father die. I need a win. Maker’s fucking breath, I deserve that much!”

Thunder boomed overhead with the end of her sentence, lightning igniting the sky with her raw anger. She quaked with fury in her boots, fists clenched at her side. Sebastian approached with caution, a light caress of his fingers on one of her hands. She flinched, jumping out of his grasp.

“Pidge,” he tried again, covering one of her fists with both his hands. “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I can’t. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, but I’m here now. Let me be here now and don’t ask for more when you know I can’t give that to you.” Alert of any attempts she might have to fight him, he drew her into a tight embrace, placing a wet kiss to her forehead as rain continued down without sign of letting up.

She shoved herself away from him, breaking his grasp on her. “You don’t even like your family, you said so yourself. Just admit it, you don’t want to be around me any longer than you have to. I’m only another conquest to you, someone to pass the time. Maker, I must seem so easy to you, so disgustingly eager.”

His nostrils flared as he stayed his distance. “I’m trying to own up to the mistakes I made with my family. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Or maybe you’re headed to the Frostbacks. Lothering is on the way, and you had  _such_ fun with the Avaar after all.” Lightning flashed overhead one more, a loud crackle in the sky. “I asked you for one more night, just one. I’m scared to go home. I’m scared to face my family again after everything. I don’t care that I don’t mean anything more to you than another hole for you to fuck. I wanted ...”

She shook her head, clearing out the thoughts from her mind before the words could finish themselves on her tongue. _It doesn't matter what I want, because it never has._  The gusto left the storm and swept out from her sloping shoulders. She turned away from him, away from the tent and toward the forest. “I need to be alone.”

Arms once again locked around her shoulders, Sebastian’s hot breath on her chilling neck, raising goosebumps over her skin. “You’ve never been just another conquest, you frustrating woman. That you think so lowly of me ...” He sighed as he tightened his grip. “One more night but only one, got it, lass?”

She nodded, spinning in his arms to bury her head into the crook of his neck. “I’m scared, Bas,” she trembled as she repeated her previous statement.

He kissed the damp crown of her head as he held her to him.”Me too, Kalea. Me too.” The storm resumed its frightening pace as the two of them shook in the continuing downpour.


	15. Act Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Fearann gu bog, Calman.”_

They kissed well into dawn, lips raw and chapped by the time Sebastian’s bladder pulled him away from the tent. Kalea watched him leave with longing, the quiet voice in her heart knowing that when he returned, everything would be different. Something as simple as a chamber pot break to shatter this illusion they lived under.

And truly, when he returned, his face became stone as he turned his back to her, pulling on his day clothes in the tension he wrought. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her bare chest as she observed his morning rituals, her hand lingering close to his back in the short distance. She could almost reach him, soothe him or maybe it was her who needed soothing, the ache in her chest resembling a hard bruise. She’d get over him, she knew, given time and distance; the deep bruises would fade, just as they always did.

She chewed the corner of her lip as she drew her hand back, eyes cast down as she fought away a fresh wave of tears. She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her lips to stifle her quiet sobs as silent trickles escaped down her cheeks.

A hand tucked some of her hair behind her ear as Sebastian wound an arm around her shoulders, bringing her in to lean on his chest. He didn’t say anything, simply pecking kisses along her hairline.

The silence followed them throughout the morning, as she broke away from the comfort Sebastian provided to get dressed, the packing of their things, her leaving the tent with him as well as her potions. She wouldn’t need them back in the safety of her family, and he would keep traveling to the Marches. He needed her supplies, though his pack sagged with the weight of her absence, her share gone the way she would soon be.

They set a steady pace, her body weary with lack of sleep. His hand bumped into hers with travel; she laced their fingers together and gave their hands a squeeze. He returned it a little harder, but didn’t let go.

She could tell when they neared Lothering, the roads picking up with other travelers and peddlers. Scared to run into her family, she slipped her hand from his. She didn’t feel like dodging their questions, especially when he was only going to leave. Her heart stuttered at the thought of seeing them again, Carver’s lanky, awkward sword fighting techniques, Bethany’s beautiful smile that their mother said called songbirds to the window. Mother herself. Father.

She shuddered at the thought of him, wrapping her arms around herself to calm the chill that swept under her skin. Sebastian hung an arm around her shoulder as a show of comfort before letting it slip back down to his side.

She blinked, one long blink, and found herself standing on the doorstep of the new house, surrounded by fields with neighbors close by but not enough to bother them, the way her father preferred it. This was too soon, she couldn’t go in, she couldn’t-

Sebastian tilted her chin up and delivered a soft kiss on her lips. She looped her arms around his neck, desperate to deepen it, a kiss to last a lifetime, but he drew back and tapped a finger to her lips. “ _Fearann gu bog_ , _Calman_ ,” he whispered.

“What does that mean?”

“Land softly, Pidge.” He reached behind her and rapped on the wood of the door, ducking out from under her arms.

She sucked in a breath as familiar voices came from inside, her mother’s quick, “Just a minute!” echoing from the other side of the door. Her heart jumped at the sound of it, of what would follow. Kalea spared one more glance behind her, surprised to find no trace of Sebastian. She surveyed the fields, wondering where he possibly hid, but then the door opened and her mother’s aged face appeared.

Kalea could spot the new worry lines, wondering if she or her father gave them to her, maybe even the twins. Her mother’s spine turned rigid as she stared at her daughter like a stranger, rapid blinking to process who was in front of her.

Bethany, so much fuller than Kalea remembered, walked by in the background, half interested as she ate an apple. But as her sister’s eyes connected with hers, she dropped the apple, shrieking, “Kal’s home!” Bethany shoved past their frozen mother and jumped into her older sister’s arms, tears brimming in her eyes. Kalea found her own cheeks wet as she buried her face into Bethany’s hair, arms locked around her.

“My daughter’s finally come home,” her mother finally broke her spell as she rushed forward to envelope Kalea, also crying with the younger women. The three of them stood, holding onto each other as they wept.

* * *

 

Bethany showed her to their shared room, allowing Kalea a chance to clean up before heading into their parent’s bedroom. Her mother started cooking almost immediately after they headed inside, saying that her return justified a feast for a celebration. Carver went into town but he’d be back soon enough.

“You seem ... different.” Bethany kicked her feet out from her bed, studying her sister as Kalea unpacked, laying her items out on her own bed. “I don’t know how to describe it. More mature?”

“A lot has happened, dear sister.”

“I know. It’s been almost a year.” Bethany gave a small shake of her head. “Like my hair? I’ve been trying to grow it out like yours.”

“It’s lovely,” Kalea muttered as she emptied her bag, turning it upside down to make sure she got everything. A letter fluttered out, her name in an unfamiliar thin script on an envelope. She picked it up, flipping it over, her chest tightening with the realization of who it had to be from.

“What’s that?”

Kalea forgot her sister watched her every move. She hurried and tucked the letter away into her pocket, holding up one of the seashells and tossing it Bethany’s way. “I got this for you on the Storm Coast.”

Bethany admired it in the sunlight that streamed through their window, but her smile fell as she thumbed the edge of the shell in her lap. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened out there? The real story and not the version you sold to Mom?”

Kalea nodded as she hung up her jacket. “Some day. But I don’t feel like talking about it right now. I just want to see Father.”

Bethany’s face twisted as she glued her eyes to the shell. “Kal, I really admire you, what you tried to do. I don’t blame you for leaving.” Bethany leaned over and set her shell on the nightstand. “Dad doesn’t either. Told me he would’ve done the same had it been any of us.”

Kalea stepped over and pressed a kiss into her hair, squeezing her shoulder. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Bethany smiled her songbird smile, and deep down, Kalea knew she was, too.

* * *

 

The curtains drawn in her father’s room gave an ominous vibe as she entered, more presentable than when she arrived to the homestead. Her father’s eyes reflected the light from the candles as he observed her quiet entrance. She noted the gauntness to his face, how his skin sagged as he laid propped against pillows. The same feeling that drove her to leave, this sense of helplessness, now crowded her thoughts. She kneeled as his hand brushed her cheek.

“The prodigal daughter returns,” he gave her a soft chuckle before it shifted into coughing. He snatched a handkerchief off the nightstand and covered his mouth; she spotted the blood as he drew it back.

The steel she injected into her soul to keep herself together crumbled under the sound of it, her sobs restarting themselves in her chest as she held her father’s hand to her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t find the Ashes.”

He didn’t even hesitate in his reply. “I’ve made my peace with death, Lea. I’m only glad that you’ve returned safe.”

“But I failed you! I failed this family.”

“You didn’t give up, Lea, and that’s all anyone could ask of you.” He wiped back some of her tears with his thumb. “You tried, and that’s what matters. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

“But you’re going to die!” Her tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks. “How can you be so nonchalant about this?”

“Everyone dies eventually, Lea. It’s a part of the cycle.” He patted her mother’s side of the bed with his free hand. “Come, lay with me. I miss having you near.”

She obliged, walking over to the other side of the bed and crawling on top of the covers, curling into him as he stroked her hair. “Welcome home, daughter.”

* * *

 

Kalea waited until she heard the soft sounds of Bethany’s breathing in the bed next to her before opening the envelope with her name on it, curiosity the only thing keeping her awake. She lit a nearby candle and stole across the room to borrow her sister’s letter opener, careful as she tore into the envelope.

_“Pidge,_

_Take care of yourself._

_Bas”_

She giggled until fat tears rolled down her cheeks. That idiot.

She tucked the letter into her pillowcase and closed her eyes at long last, her warmth rejoining her sister’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, Sebastian doesn't exactly have a way with words. And what could he possibly say to her? 
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has supported this, who read this, who let themselves be a sounding board. This was supposed to be short! I hope you all follow me over to the next book in the trilogy, which is set during the actual game. 
> 
> And if you feel the need for the early Seb and Kalea, feel free to drop me a prompt on tumblr, though I would specify early years. 
> 
> Thank you, precious people and friends!


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